


Small Lifeforms

by Eerily



Category: South Park
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Lost Love, M/M, Parent AU, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-08
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2018-10-29 08:49:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 45,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10850562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eerily/pseuds/Eerily
Summary: It was a shock in itself when Craig found Tweek back in South Park after six long years. What came as even more of a shock, though, was the little boy buckled into his shopping cart. [Explicit rating for language and eventual sexual content]





	1. Grocery Cart Drive-By

"Hey, it's gonna be okay," Craig whispered. Both his eyes were closed as he squeezed Tweek's little form in his arms. "There's always skype…"

Tweek was heaving into his chest. His red face was buried deep into the front of his boyfriend's hoodie. The fabric could only take so many tears. He could feel Craig's clothes stick to his cheeks. The car was waiting behind him. It was fully packed with his mother sitting in the front seat. He didn't want to get in. He didn't want to go with her.

All he wanted was to be with Craig.

"It w-won't be the same! I want to be with you, and stay up late to watch infomercials and go on d-dates and- I- I-"

"Hey," Craig murmured. His finger slipped under Tweek's chin to coax him into letting Craig see his tear soaked face. "It's going to be alright… I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

"B-but I am…"

Craig frowned at that, but he knew it was true. Things would never be the same. At least not for a long time. No more sitting together under the bridge after school. No more stealing each other's kisses in the theater.

The taste of coffee would only be bitter for him after that moment. He knew all too well.

"Tweek, darling," his mother called from the driver's seat of her car. "We have to get going."

Again, Tweek pressed his face into Craig's shirt in protest.

"I can't… I can't go without you…"

Craig sighed, but rested his head in the boy's wild hair anyways. "It's going to be okay… I know it's hard."

"I love you," Tweek choked into Craig's chest.

"I know…" he muttered in reply. "I love you, too."

"Promise me," Tweek heaved.

"I promise, forever."

That didn't seem to help stop Tweek's sobbing. This was it for them. The moment Tweek slid into that car, all their whispered promises and passionate nights would be behind them.

Their love would be behind them, though Craig wouldn't believe it.

It could work, whether they lived two houses down or a four hour car ride away.

Craig didn't let Tweek see him cry. He just forced his feelings down as he watched his boyfriend climb into the back seat of that green Grand Prix. The car revved, and Tweek pressed his hands against the glass, looking at Craig with the saddest eyes he'd ever seen.

That was the last time Craig ever saw them.

**...**

_What's so special about margarine, anyway? It's yellow and comes in a tub. Wow. So impressive. You know what else does those things?_

_Butter._

_Butter does those things, margarine._

_And it does it for fifty cents less._

_What do you have to say for yourself?_

Craig stares blankly at the yellow tub on the chilled shelf before him.

_Mhm, that's what I thought._

He plucks the butter from its place and tosses it in his cart.

Whistling contently, he heads towards the chip aisle. An esteemed bachelor like himself deserves nothing less than the finest bag of chips the market can offer.

He doesn't quite see the other cart quickly exiting the aisle to his right, or notice the person it belongs to yelping right before their paths collide with a metallic sounding bang. Groceries jar about, and Craig's precious butter slides onto it's side.

"Oh!" the cart's owner shouts in surprise. "Sorry about that!"

Only then does Craig look up to see a pretty girl in a red button up coat. Her brown eyes get a little wide at the sight of him, which he finds odd.

"Oh. Hi, Bebe," Craig says in his usual drawl tone.

Running into her is usually a nice thing. Being that she's always a great friend to him, bumping into one another are fortunate coincidences. However, for Bebe, this time doesn't seem to be so fortunate.

"Why are you here?" she demands, which leaves Craig blinking in confusion.

He looks down into his cart of food, and then asks dejectedly, "Am I not allowed?"

She lets go of her cart only to shove him out of the way and grab a hold of his.

"Hey!" he shouts as he watches her make off down the aisle with his groceries. Perplexed and annoyed, he jogs after her. "Thief! Cart thief! Call the _police_!"

She doesn't let go until she reaches the decorative rugs and throw blankets in the home improvement aisle. Craig jumps when he turns in after her. She stands five inches away from his face. Damn, she sure is tall in heels.

With a goofy smile she pats the top of his blue hat.

"Be a good boy and stay on this side of the store," she coos.

"Why?" he asks with a tilt of his head.

She stands wordless for a short while while she plays with the hem of her blouse.

"Well..." She lets out a loud sigh. "Because um... I might have forgot to mention something."

"What?..."

"Tweek is back."

His jaw unhinges like he's preparing to speak, but the tightness in his chest denies him of any words.

"I didn't know if you'd want to see him-"

"Wait he's here? In South Park?" Craig pries with lax lips. "Since when?"

"Since yesterday."

"And you didn't tell me?... _Clyde_ didn't tell me?"

"Well, how could we have?" She asks while shaking her head. Frizzy blond curls sway as she does. "I know how you feel about him... and things are different, now."

Craig frowns. "...so he doesn't want to see me?"

"What? No, no. I didn't say that."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Well... you see-"

"Bebe?" A voice calls from somewhere nearby. The squeaky wheels of another cart approach, and Bebe purses her lips together. Despite this, she turns quickly on her heels to greet the third member of their party. He's a rather small man. 5'4, perhaps, with unruly blond hair and pale skin. His fingers clutch to the handle of his own cart, and they only squeeze harder when his green eyes spot Craig.

"Ah... Tweek," Bebe mutters. Lifting her hand, she gestures towards the man beside her. "You remember Craig... obviously."

Tweek locks onto the familiar face with his eyebrows raised and pinched together. Craig's left just as shocked as his eyes trail down to a tiny person fastened into the seat of Tweek's grocery cart.

"Um... yeah. Hey," Tweek utters with a small and awkward wave.

"...hey," is all Craig can say in return. His heart feels like it's stopped and all the air left his lungs. Still, he manages to find the breath to ask one question.

"Who's kid?" he asks as he watches the little boy in Tweek's cart fiddle with a stuffed rabbit's ear.

Tweek swallows and looks around the aisle for an escape. His fingers drum an anxious beat over the handle of his shopping cart, and he signs. It's obvious even Bebe's feeling tense at the question.

She's not so sure how Craig's going to take this.

"He's mine," Tweek says. He smiles a little before laying a hand in the boy's light hair. The child gazes past his father's cart to see the tall man on the other side.

"His name is Avery," Tweek adds.

"Oh."

Now all of a sudden Bebe's urgency makes sense. He's heard rumors, though he's always chosen not to believe them. Thinking of Tweek with a family seemed a little ridiculous. Not to mention it also made Craig's heart sink… that feeling's so intense now Craig thinks he can feel it thumping in his shoes. He discreetly lets his eyes wander to search for any signs of the child's mother.

"So um… where's the wife?" Craig asks with a chuckle. It's only there to mask the sound of his heart shattering. Tweek surely would have heard the crash otherwise.

"Wife?... Oh! No, no. I'm single," Tweek sputters just as awkwardly, though that small confession seems to relax Craig almost completely.

Not that Bebe is surprised.

"Um," She interrupts the two. "How about I walk Avery to the toy aisles while you two catch up."

"Toys?!" Avery reaches up, shaking the cart as he bounces. Tweek reaches down to unbuckle the boy and lifts him into his arms.

"A-alright, that's fine," he utters before passing him off to Bebe.

She squeezes the boy and coos at him, then turns towards the toy section. Almost absentmindedly, Tweek pushes his cart towards them. The old, sticky wheels of the metal contraption squeak, jarring his small pile of groceries about. The toys are a short while away considering Bebe has to stop and retrieve her own groceries. Craig doesn't seem to mind adding to their caravan of carts. He lingers behind, watching Tweek as if he's some mythical beast.

Craig imagines Tweek as a merman.

Bebe takes Avery to an aisle lined with foam swords and fake weaponry. Tweek and Craig end up loitering just outside the aisles, alongside the ball cage. It's where Tweek has the best view of his baby. He trusts Bebe with his life; that he does. However, he finds it really hard to let his son out of his sight. Who he's with doesn't matter.

"He looks just like you," Craig says while trying a little too hard not to stand too close. "So cute."

It takes a moment for his head to process what he just said. "I mean… I'm not saying you're cute. Wait. I mean…"

Tweek gives him a half smile and waves his hand to dismiss Craig's embarrassment. "It's okay… everyone says that. Good to see you haven't changed m-much."

Craig clears his throat while playing with one of the rubber strings holding the bouncy balls in their cage.

_Hah. Bouncy ball prison._

_What did you do to deserve this, blue basketball with white swirls? And you, orange beach ball?_

_Didn't pay ball child support? Pop a yoga ball? That's murder._

_Well, orange beach ball, I am quite frankly shocked and ashamed._

"It's been a while since I last s-saw you. At least in person, anyway," Tweek mutters as he watches Craig pick at the black string. At first, the voice startles him out of his thinking. It's still just as shaky as it was when Craig last spoke to him. His hair is just as wild and his fashion sense is just as adorably skewed. He's still Tweek. Aside from the little surprise of a child, he seems to be the same person Craig fell in love with when he was thirteen. That thought makes his throat dry. Suddenly, he's forgotten all about the orange ball's dastardly crime.

"Yeah… its been like… six years ago," Craig nods. His chest pounds kind of funny when Tweek adjusts the collar of his too-big green sweater. "What have you been up to over all these years?"

Tweek shrugs. "I graduated and tried going to college for a little while."

"Oh?" Craig questions. He keeps his eyes locked onto the side of Tweek's face, though all Tweek is interested in was watching Avery pick through toys. "Why didn't you finish?"

"Well… my, um…GAH! My girlfriend got pregnant," Tweek says while fidgeting with the collar of his sweater. It's obvious he's uncomfortable. "She decided she didn't want to stay with us, and I guess taking care of him alone and working _and_ going to school was too much, so I had to drop out."

Craig frowns. "I'm sorry to hear that…"

Tweek purses his lips together in thought, but allows his big green eyes to gaze over at Craig. "It's okay… it's not all bad… how about you?"

Craig shrugs. "I dropped out of high school."

Tweek gives him a stern look of disapproval, which Craig can't help but grin at.

"So… are you visiting your dad, or-" Craig begins.

"Oh, no… me and Avery just moved back here. We're staying with Bebe."

"Oh! That's awesome!" Craig said a little too excitedly.

"Um, I mean uh," he stands a little ridged, then clears his throat. "That's cool."

Tweek tries his damnedest not to laugh, but fails miserably.

"So why'd you move back?," Craig asks. He's back to picking at the black elastic string and mentally interrogating bouncy balls. "Virginia not good enough for you?

Tweek shrugs a little. "Well… hm. Yeah, I guess."

Conversation dies when Craig realizes all he's doing is drilling Tweek with questions. The poor thing never did do so well when he felt like he was being interrogated. Craig leans back against the bouncy ball prison to join Tweek in watching his toddler have an epic sword battle with Bebe, who's down on her knees so he can reach her.

Craig tries so hard to think of a suitable conversation topic, but what can he say to an ex boyfriend? Especially one that hasn't been around for years. Tweek seemed to light up when Craig mentioned his son before. That seems like a good step in the right direction.

"How old is he?"

Just as Craig suspected, a small smile tugs at the corners of Tweek's mouth.

"Four, now. He just had his birthday last month. It was kind of also a going away party so all his little friends from the neighborhood were there and-" he realizes he's rambling. "It was nice."

Tweek's smile's contagious. Craig can't battle it off his face.

"Aw, definitely sounds nice."

Tweek nods kind of hard before clasping his hands together. He still moves the same way. Craig tries not to notice those things.

"Daddy!" A small voice shouts from the end of the aisle.

Tweek tilts his head as the little blond runs up to him, foam sword in hand. The little boy's excited, stumbling gate slows cautiously at the sight of his daddy's tall friend. Tweek squats down with his arms outstretched, and little Avery quickly scurries into the safety of them. Tweek stands with the boy tucked against his side.

"Avery, this is daddy's friend, Craig," he introduces.

Craig smiles, though the boy offers only a glance in his direction before hiding himself in Tweek's jacket. Craig's smile melts into a small frown.

"Am I scary?" he asks in a voice that sounds far more hurt than he intended it to.

"No, no, he can just be a little bit shy with new people," Tweek says in assurance.

He pats the child on the back as Bebe watches from a little ways away. She can't decide whether to be worried or elated by this surprise reunion.

"Come on, Ave. Craig is nice. Don't hurt his feelings."

Again, the child peeks out at the giant towering over him and his father. He doesn't think he ever saw anyone that big before. This new person's as big as the skyscrapers they saw on their trip to Aunt Bebe's house.

"Hello," Craig greets. He shifts from side to side as he speaks. Kids generally aren't his forte. The only ones he's ever around are Bebe's daughters, and they're wild compared to Tweek's timid little creature.

Avery looks away a moment as he decides whether or not he should respond.

"…Hi," he says in a small voice.

Suddenly Craig's smile returns to him. It's much bigger this time.

"What are those things?" Avery asks while pointing at Craig.

"What things?" he blurts before looking himself over.

"On your arm…"

"…oh! Those are my, um, tattoos."

"Aunt Bebe has a butterfly on her back," Avery says while nodding his head. "What animals do you have?"

"Well, I don't have any animal tattoos. I have this, though."

He takes the hem of his short sleeve and pulls it up over his shoulder, revealing a car. Just a car, nothing fancy. It's simple, just how he's always liked it.

The little boy's eyes light up and grow wide.

"D-Daddy! Look, it's RedRacer!" he shouts in his excitement, making his skittish father jump. "It's RedRacer!"

"You know RedRacer?" Craig asks. By now he's growing just as excited as the four year old in Tweek's arms.

"Yeah! He's my favorite!" Avery declares. "His cars are- they're so cool! The one with the rockets! It's like- _SHHHHHWWOOMMM_!"

"Aw, yeah! Did you see the episode where it flew off motor canyon!? I nearly had a heart attack the first time I saw that."

"Y-yeah! Yeah! Oh gosh, goodness, I s-screamed!" Avery shouts while jolting his arms upwards. The child's speech is so slurred and ran together Tweek's amazed Craig even understands him.

"God, it's like the best show ever. RedRacer's little sister is one of my favorites. She reminds me of my sister! She's always on the road- Except she likes motorcycles instead of cars," Craig gushes. The wide eyed little boy keeps his enthused gaze on Craig and all of his words, but the giant stops mid ramble when he sees the look Tweek is giving him. An oddly cute grin is tugged at his lips, and his eyebrows are raised high. Craig knows immediately what Tweek is thinking. _YOU'RE STILL A FUCKING DORK, AREN'T YOU?_

A little embarrassed with himself, Craig looks down at his feet and shuffles them. A squeaking sound resonates through the aisle as Bebe pushes her cart back towards her friends. She was having fun watching Craig make an adorable fool of himself, but they're strapped for time "We should hurry and finish up here. I wanna get home before Kenny drops Charlotte off. Her and Claudia will have a fit if they don't get their damned mac and cheese."

"I'd be more worried about Clyde, honestly," Tweek replies as he buckles his mini me back into his cart. "Oh, um... It was nice seeing you again."

_It was nice seeing you again._

Craig can't stop a smile from spreading across his face.

Tweek turns and takes off down the aisle, which gives Bebe ample opportunity to tease the fuck out of Craig. She pops open her mouth for the invisible dick she's jerking. Her wiggling eyebrows only make Craig's cheeks tint red.

He points a finger at her and narrows his eyes as he backs away to his cart. She flips her hair in his direction with a mischievous giggle, then jogs to catch up with Tweek.

When they're out of his sight he lets out a loud exhale. His fingers grip the handle of his cart, and it's only now he realizes they're shaking. Whether its from fear, excitement, or both, Craig isn't sure. It's kind of hard to sort through his emotions when Tweek's face is still lingering in his vision. At least he's got work in an hour. Maybe it'll be easier to sort all this out with a little help from the good 'ol bartender. He gathers up the remainder of his groceries, though he makes sure to take his sweet time in doing so. He doesn't even feel like his feet are connecting to the ground when he loads plastic bags into his trunk. He doesn't feel like he's breathing when he gets home to put them away, and he doesn't feel like going in yet when he's finally standing in the parking lot of the shop.

He kicks pebbles around the pavement as he leans against the garage's grey exterior. A cigarette is hanging from his lips and he's trying to make a game out of breathing. Three breaths between each puff. One, two, three, puff. The thick cloud of smog seeps into his lungs. It does over and over until his cigarette burns down to the filter.

"You gonna just fuckin' stand there all day?" A gruff voice barks. He jerks his head to find his father, Thomas, standing in the open front door beside him. With his eyes still a little wide, he drops the filter and crushes it under his shoe.

"I was planning on it," Craig admits shamelessly.

"Oh, get yer ass in here," comes the immediate reply. The bell rings as the glass door shuts behind his father, then again when he steps into the lobby. _'Lobby'_ is kind of a bad word for the tiny room. There wasn't ever much in it besides a few chairs lining the walls and a small counter. Unless one would count the gaudy attempt at decorating. The little model cars on the counter top fit in just fine, but Craig thinks it was probably a bad idea for his dad to decorate their front office with beer posters and neon signs like they were running some sort of professional man-cave.

Craig contemplates what kind of things they would sell if they ran one of those.

"We got a lady comin' in about fifteen minutes for an oil change, you think you can handle that much while I get some work done in here?" Thomas asks… no, orders, as he walks to the other side of the counter.

"Guess so." Craig steps forward and leans against the scratched polish of the tabletop. "If you get me a drink, bartender."

Thomas quirks a brow at his son, but reaches for the mini-fridge under the counter anyway. "Just one, but wash your damn mouth out. Don't want you wreaking of this shit when you're working."

"Aye, Aye."

Craig takes the cold can in his hand and cracks the top open.

"Okay, I'll bite. Smokin' in the parking lot, me playin' bartender. What's goin' on?"

Craig looks up from his can, then wipes his mouth with his arm. "Hm? Nothing, really. Just ran into somebody. It's got my head kinda screwy."

"Just somebody, eh? That Thomas douchebag again?" His father asks before cracking his knuckles. "Me and Ruby'll gladly wring that scrawny fuck's neck."

"What? Holy shit, no," Craig says before putting his hands up, despite the can cupped in his right. "It wasn't Thomas. You don't gotta kill nobody."

"Oh." Thomas crosses his arms. "Then who?"

"Um…" Craig utters through an awkward laugh. "It was a… Tweek. Guess he just moved back to town."

Thomas perks up at the name, then leans forward a bit over the counter. "Tweek? Like… Tweek Tweak? The little 'en you used to go with?"

He stands in silence as Craig fiddles with the tab of his beer until it pops of. "Yeah."

"Then what the hell 're you so screwy about? Go… talk to him, or some gay shit. You don't get exes back by slackin' at work."

"Holy shit dad," Craig snickers through a budding grin. "Are you trying to get me to get back with him?"

"Well, fuck, you whined about him leaving till my ears bled. Can't tell me you don't want to. He was the only one I ever liked, anyway. Didn't hurt he was so damn cute."

"Holy fucking Jesus," Craig blurts. He has to set his beer down on the counter to hide his embarrassment in his hands.

"What? Too much?"

"No. I just... ugh."

Thomas stands up straight and waits for his son to spit it all out. It's a little too obvious he's keeping things to himself. Thomas only gets more and more frustrated when Craig picks up a model car and rolls it back and forth. He's wondering if a monkey could be taught to drive a stick shift like the one in RedRacer when his father impatiently clears his throat in annoyance.

"I didn't just meet Tweek."

"Okay."

"I met Tweek and his son."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Thomas's downcast gaze lingers on the car Craig is playing with. Craig doesn't notice his father's sympathetic stare. Maybe because he's feeling a random rush of excitement thinking about the kid. Which, he supposes, is kind of odd. Half of him is still reeling in confusion over this new, life altering discovery. The other half of him wants to keep talking about RedRacer.

"So is there like… a lady friend?"

"No. He says he's single… His son's name is Avery. He seemed to really like me. 'Cause of my RedRacer tattoo."

"He's single and the kid likes you- go for it."

"Wow. You're usually picking apart all the things you hate about everybody- especially my boyfriends," Craig replies with a weird half-grin. "It's not normal, you being so nice."

"Yeah, well don't get used to it."


	2. Seren-dipity-doo-da

Nothing but trees pass by them. That's how it is at Bebe's house; way out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by forests and not much else. Tweek keeps an eye out for the mailbox on the side of the road. It looks like a miniature barn on a stick, which Tweek finds rather quaint. Bebe turns at said mailbox and guides the van down the drive. They pass tire swings and a kiddie pool on the way to the farmhouse. Tweek keeps trying to drill it into his head that this is his home. Home. What's funny is he can't help but feel like this is the closest he's ever been to having one.

They come to a shaky stop in the gravel driveway, then climb out. Tweek unbuckles Avery, and a small hand grips the front of his shirt. He smiles down at the big eyes gaping up at him. With Avery on his hip and Bebe's voice filling his head, he feels as if he actually… belongs here.

Bebe mutters under her breath when they step onto the porch and she fumbles with her keys. The muffled noise behind the front door is suddenly booming when she pushes it open. It's the excited giggling of a child and the just as excited giggling of a father. Bebe's shoes click across the old wood of her living room before she shouts into the house: "GROCERIES! IF YOU DON'T HELP YOU DON'T EAT!"

"Oh, damn, it's your mother," a deep voice murmurs from a nearby room. It's hushed as if caught in the middle of a crime.

"Clyde, I heard that, you butt. Come help."

"Heeeeere we come!" A little voice laughs. Only a moment later, a young girl comes skipping in. In her hand is a much bigger hand, and attached to that is Clyde. Or… at least Tweek thinks so. It's kind of hard to tell.

"Oh my god. Is that my make up?" Bebe blurts like she's angry, but the grin tugging at the corners of her lips gives her away.

"Um… I don't know what you're talking about," Clyde says as he picks a bow out of his hair. And then another.

"Babe," she stops to laugh. "Babe, there's lipstick in your eyebrows."

"Yeah. I just thought I needed a new look, you know? A little lipstick in the eyebrows is like… the new thing."

Tweek supposes the mascara streaking his cheeks is just a new fad, too. Along with the powder in his hair and the pink blotch on the tip of his nose.

"Isn't he pretty?" asks the girl still latched onto his hand. She's beaming with pride. Tweek can almost visibly see Bebe's heart melting into the girl's tiny hands.

"Yes, of course, Claudia," Bebe replies while stifling a giggle. "Very creative."

The girl nods hard, and her brown pig tails sway with the gesture.

Avery's toes touch the ground when Tweek lowers him to the floor, but the boy just chases after his father anyway; even as Claudia latches onto him and rambles on about everything that happened while he was gone. The children follow Tweek through the house and out into the yard. When he and the other grown ups dig plastic bags out of the trunk, the children marvel at how sharp the gravel in the driveway is against their bare feet. Avery whines at being parted so far from his daddy.

"We need sandals," Claudia says as Avery presses his foot down on the jagged little rocks. "Charlotte is the only one brave enough to go past without them!"

Brave? Avery's brave! If all it takes to walk on the rocks is that, then he doesn't need sandals! The boy puffs up his chest, and then bolts out into the drive way.

"Avery, no!" Claudia shouts from behind him, but he's too focused to hear her.

The tiny pebbles jab the bottoms of his feet and stick between his toes, but they don't deter his long strides. Daddy is only a little ways away.

Tweek jumps when he feels something smack against his leg. His arms are filled with plastic bags, so he has to twist at an angle to see the boy hooked onto his pants. Claudia's still wailing from the safety of the grass. She tosses her arms all around her in a fit, as if she'd just watched the boy jump off a cliff.

Clyde snorts, and Tweek sighs.

"Claudia said only brave people can walk on the rocks and I did it!" Avery boasts from his father's pant leg.

"I'm not surprised," Tweek says with the faintest grin. "You are the bravest, after all."

"Yeah!" Avery shouts before running back to the grass with his arms stretched out to either side. "I'm brave! Like Simba, like Hurcules!"

"Holy shit that kid is so cute," Clyde says as he watches Avery collide with Claudia, who was still yelling. "It's so funny because he looks exactly like you- exactly - but he's such a daredevil and you're such a weenie."

"H-hey!" Tweek snaps. "I'm n-not a weenie!"

He clutches the bags tightly to his chest and stops back towards the house in a huff, as if that will somehow prove his point.

"Well, we have to give him a little credit, seeing as how he kept his cool so well at the store," Bebe relays to her makeup covered husband as she passes him a bag.

"Oh, yeah? What happened?" Clyde ponders as he peeks inside the plastic.

"You should ask Tweek." Bebe's grinning at the twitching man, who's already half way back to the house.

"What? Did you s-say my name?"

"Yeah. You should tell Clyde what happened at the store," she reiterates as she jogs to catch up with him.

"GAH! What? Nothing happened!" Tweek blurts, though his cheeks betray him with a slight pinkish tinge.

"Oh, did too-"

"What?" Clyde whines. "What was it? Don't leave me hanging."

Avery stumbles alongside his father as they congregate back into the house. Tweek keeps walking straight to the kitchen. He refuses to look back at the others for the fear of getting caught with a blush. Why is he all bashful, anyway? Craig is his ex boyfriend, not a teenage crush. At least not anymore. Bebe and Clyde follow right on his heels, and by this point Clyde won't let up.

"Tell meeeeee!"

Clyde whines more than his five year old.

"Nothing, Clyde, nothing happened," Tweek assures his blathering friend, though he still won't face him. "We just ran into Craig-"

"Craig? Oh, no," Clyde utters. "Did he see Avery? Did he weird out?"

"Huh? No. He saw Ave, but he wasn't any more weird than he's always been. Why would he be?" Tweek mutters as he pulls a carton of orange juice from a grocery bag and shoves it in the fridge. Bebe folds her arms over her chest and cocks a brow at Tweek. He damn well knows the answer to that question.

"Oh, come on," she says. "You and Craig were inseparable boyfriends for like EVER- weren't you engaged? I think it's a little obvious why seeing your kid would freak him out."

"Well, in his defense, I guess Tweek hasn't talked to him in like six years," Clyde says. "How would he know?"

For some reason Tweek can't help but feel the teeniest tiniest bit of pissed the fuck off. They think he just dropped Craig entirely and never ever even bothered to ask if he was okay? Sure, they kept their lives from one another, but it's not like they didn't call on occasion. The more he thinks about it the more angry he is.

"Y-yeah I have! I mean, we talked on the phone a few times. I'm not some heartless monster who dumped him and never spoke to him again or something." His voice began venomous until he remembered little Avery was looking up at him.

"What? And you never told him about…" Bebe's gaze flickers to the young boy by Tweek's side. "About the B-A-B-Y."

Tweek's flushed face doesn't let up his case. He shouldn't have said anything.

"Well… no. It was just a few times. I think the last time we talked before today was like a year ago. I - it was just kinda a few minute 'hi how are ya' sorta thing. I didn't think it mattered," Tweek lies. He won't admit those calls were made only at their lowest moments. There was no small talk; the only noise that passed through their speakers were sobbing and quiet assurances. Tweek really really hated to admit it, but no one knew how to calm down Craig and Tweek better than one another. No amount of time or distance could change that fact. And with the baby? Tweek already hurt Craig enough.

"Hm. That explains it a little better," Clyde says while nodding his head.

"Explains what?" Tweek mutters as he shoves a box into the cabinet.

By now Clyde is doing a better job of getting into the food then helping to put it away. He's popped open a bag of chips. His cheeks are full when he looks up and says, "Why he never got over you."

"Clyde!" Bebe scolds.

"What, what? It's true!" he blathers as crumbs fall from his cheese covered lips. "Everybody knows it!"

Tweek rubs his face and shifts from side to side with unease. It would explain Craig tripping all over himself while he tried to talk. Tweek wasn't just some stranger to him. They spent five years together. The best five years Tweek can remember having, besides the ones spent with Avery. What? God, damn it, Tweek. You aren't back in South Park to rekindle some old flame. You're here for your son.

Tweek rubs the back of his neck and sighs. He stares at an old, crooked picture of a farm nailed to the wall to distract himself.

"W-well… I sort of feel bad, then," he admits with a small whine. "I hope he didn't think I was like… flirting with him or something."

Bebe laughs. "I don't think Craig knows what flirting is. I wouldn't worry about that."

"You're right about that one," Clyde agrees as he shoves another handful of chips in his mouth.

"Are you gonna help, or just stand there and stuff yourself?" Bebe utters. "I wanna get this done before Ken comes by."

With his mouth still full, Clyde picks up a can of soup and puts it in the pantry. For every item put away, he crams another handful of chips in this mouth. Tweek can't help but smile. It's nice to see how some things never change.

A sudden noise startles Tweek out of his ease. Bebe's phone is blaring from her purse. She purses her lips at the sound before fetching it from the counter. Clyde and Tweek watch with raised eyebrows as she makes a face at the name on her screen.

"Speak of the devil."

Her narrow finger presses the talk button.

"Hello, hello," she greets.

When her face melts into a scowl, Tweek becomes worried.

"What do you mean you're going to be late?… Kenny, five o'clock means five o'clock."

Clyde bites down on his lip. Bebe stands from the wall and paces the floor.

"No, I understand that, but…" she sighs, "Kenny, listen, I don't care how late it is, just have my daughter back home before the end of the night."

She stops to tap her foot against the wooden floor, and the call concludes with, "Alright, alright. Tell Kyle I hope it goes well. Just don't forget to tell me about this kind of stuff so I know before you take her next time. Yeah, see ya."

She tosses her phone onto the stained wood of her counter top, then runs a hand through her wild hair.

"What happened?" Clyde asks. He's abandoned his chip bag on the kitchen table and moved on to sucking the cheese dust off his fingers.

"Nothing. Kyle had an appointment Ken forgot to tell me about. I guess Charlotte wanted to go with them, so he won't drop her off 'til late."

"Huh?" Clyde doesn't seem too thrilled with the news, either. "Wow, well… I don't know. I hate to sound like a dick or something, but he's lucky he gets to have her at all. He's kinda pushing it with all these late drop offs, isn't he?"

"I guess, but I really don't think he means to- you know how scatter brained he is," she sighs with a subtle huff. "And parental rights or not, he is Charlotte's biological dad. He'd never forgive us if we got in the way of that. Neither would Charlotte."

"I know, I know. Kenny's my bro! I wouldn't want that, either. It just gets annoying."

Tweek feels like he's eavesdropping on a private conversation. It's one he wishes he hadn't heard thanks to the sad tug in his chest. Maybe Kenny's predicament is a good thing, though. He might be in bed before they show up. Seeing Ken and Ky wouldn't bring back bittersweet memories like Craig did, but he's had more than his fair share of awkwardly emotional reunions for one day.

…

Their room is just big enough for a queen sized bed and a dresser, both of which were ready for them before they moved in. Tweek's laying back in said bed. The faded, torn squares of a quilt keep him and Avery cozy on this crisp summer night. The world outside their cracked window is getting darker, but he isn't quite ready for sleep. His laptop is resting on the blankets over his legs. Job openings scroll past his sleep deprived eyes, but everything he comes across is either too far away or he isn't qualified for. It's been that way all night. And the night before that, too.

His gaze shifts from the bright screen to the little boy sitting at the foot of the bed. Avery's legs are tucked underneath him as he clutches his stuffed rabbit. He's blissfully distracted by the tiny T.V. on their dresser, and Tweek can't help but let out a faint sigh. The T.V. is something Tweek picked up at Good Will, along with a VCR and a few tapes worth less than a dollar each. Avery doesn't seem to mind that most everything he has is hand-me-downs from strangers. That doesn't ease the twisting in Tweek's stomach.

He sinks a little lower against his pillow; his eyes back on the screen. Blue links assault his vision, but he can't let up. He has bills to pay, a leaking car, a child about to start kindergarten, and no job.

"Daddy? You have sleepies," says a small voice from beside him.

He nearly jumps out of his skin, but melts back into his pillow when he notices Avery's big green eyes.

"Ah. Yeah. Daddy has sleepies… Maybe we should go to bed."

Avery gives an excited nod before rolling over and plopping down onto the carpet. "Okay! Let me check for the monsters!"

The boy runs to the closet, then stands on his tippy toes to pull the door open. With a holler, he dives inside. If there ARE any monsters in there, he's going to have the element of surprise. Tweek stifles a chuckle as the child roots around in a pile of clothes. He rummages in their unpacked boxes for a few moments until realizing the green monster hiding inside is only one of daddy's sweaters.

"All clear!" He declares before rolling out of the tiny room and pushing the tall wooden door closed behind him. "Now for under the bed!"

Tweek closes his laptop and smiles as Avery runs to the bedside and lifts the blankets up. Things shift and move underneath Tweek. At least until his son pops back up beside the bed with a wild head of hair. The boy stumbles to the window, where he checks outside for ghouls. There's only black, so he draws the curtains with his chubby hands.

"Is it all clear, little monster hunter?" Tweek asks with a yawn.

"Yes!" Avery rejoices. "But don't worry, Daddy. If any monsters do come, I'll beat them up!"

"I know you will, that's why they never come around here."

"Right!"

The child makes his way back to the bed and crawls his way into the quilt with his father. Tweek is still sitting up; hair sticking out every which way, dark circles hanging from his tired eyes. He smiles when the boy's hand touches the stubble on his jaw. Tweek sinks down in bed. A groan spills out of him the moment his cheek falls onto the softness of his pillow- one of the few things that he brought himself. Avery quickly copies his father. He dramatically falls down on beside Tweek and lets out a loud sigh.

"So…" Tweek utters. "How do you like it here? With Aunt Bebe and Uncle Clyde?"

Avery snuggles into the fluff of their pillow while he thinks about it. Tweek pulls their quilt up over his little shoulder to combat the chill in their room.

"It's fun," Avery slurs through the fabric. "I love them!"

A small weight lifts off Tweek's chest, and his smile returns to is face.

"And they love you, too," he assured. "Do you know who else loves you?"

"Who?"

"I do," Tweek hums in response, then reaches out and buries his fingers under Avery's armpit.

"Ah!" the boy half squeals half giggles while rolling away from the tickling. "Dats not fair! I wasn't ready!"

Tweek chuckles, then ensnares the laughing child in his arms. He's too tired to carry through with a full on tickle war. Instead he settles with a peck on his son's forehead, which Avery quickly returns.

"Alright, lets get some sleep. We're gonna be pretty busy tomorrow."

…

Pretty busy turned out to be an understatement. Tweek's been driving around all day. It started at the the post office, where he set up a P.O. box, then to North Park, where he spent a couple hours investigating every 'Now Hiring' sign he could find. The McDonald's seems pretty interested in giving him a chance. That's definitely exciting, but the temperature gauge in his dashboard sucked all the happiness right out of him. His engine's hot, and the coolant is low. He's honestly not sure what that could end up doing to his car. What if it locks up on the road and causes him to get into an accident with Avery in the back seat? What if it gets so hot it explodes?

He immediately presses his foot on the break to slow down. Just in case. The few cars behind him honk in annoyance, but if they're so eager to kill themselves they can just fuckin' go around. Avery leans up in his car seat to watch the other vehicles do just that.

Tweek's eyes scan the side of the road for any sign of a mechanic shop. He recalls seeing one yesterday. A big gray building next to… Jimbo's! Avery lets out an excited holler when Tweek hits the breaks and takes a sharp left turn. Driving recklessly is not his thing, but holy fuck he's so sure his car's about to burst into flames. The needle on the temp gauge is dangerously high.

"Do it again! Do it again!" Avery chants as his father lets out a sigh. He can see Jimbo's Guns just down the road. It's surrounded by shrubs now, and an odd feeling overtakes him when he realizes boards are nailed over the windows. They must have gone out of business.

His overheating car creeps past the shell of a gun shop, and he turns into the parking lot of the one next door. There's a sign hanging out front that reads 'TNT Mechanics' in blocky red letters, but the big gray building looks sketchy as hell. He unbuckles himself and fetches Avery from the back.

"Where are we now?" the little boy asks.

"A mechanic shop. Bonnie isn't doing so good. We're gonna find someone who can fix her."

Together they wander to the glass door, where Tweek peeks inside the lobby with distrust. It's lit up with neon signs and beer posters. Tweek can't help but consider going elsewhere, but he's too scared to try to drive his car off the lot.

A bell rings above his head when he pushes the glass slab open. The room is empty with the exception of the gaudy decorations. No one at the counter, no one in the chairs lining the wall. It'd be just his luck if everyone's on lunch or something.

"Hello?" He calls, only to be met with the buzzing of beer themed neon signs. Hm. He takes Avery by the hand, leading the child back out onto the cement. Surely they wouldn't lave the place unlocked and completely unattended.

"Do you hear that?" Avery asks while tugging his father's hand.

Tweek perks up to listen, then nods. Music. It sounds like muffled heavy metal playing from the other side of the garage.

They walk to the edge of the building in the hot sun. Avery oos and aws at the cars lined up in the back parking lot, and his father makes a face as he steps in some kind of oil. Tweek doesn't trust the dark puddles and tools sitting around. To keep Avery's little hands away from dangerous things, Tweek kneels down to scoop him up in his arms.

"Um, hello?" He calls out as he shuffles closer to the open garage door. There are a few cars packed into the space, and tools line the walls. That's really all he can see, but the music is still very audible.

He creeps around the wall and stands under the open door to poke around. Just as he was hoping, there's someone inside. All he can see are their long legs sticking out from under a car, covered in oily denim. A clatter fills the room as if they'd dropped something, then they mumble to themselves.

"H-hello?" Tweek calls into the garage.

His voice echos, which startles the mechanic enough for him to jolt and smack his head on something. Tweek can recognize that painful 'oof!' a mile away. He rushes to the car, where the person is rolling out from under. They sit up on the red rolling thing, he remembers it's called a creeper, and rub their face with a whine. Tweek bends over with Avery latched to his side.

"Are you okay?" he asks.

"Vroom, vroom!" Says a little voice from between them. Avery bounces up and down with a chubby little hand reaching up for the groaning mechanic "Go, RedRacer! Go!"

Tweek's heart stops beating when a blue eye peeks up at him from between calloused fingers. Craig. Tweek clears his throat and tries to pay no mind to the excited sounds of his son.

Craig, on the other hand, can't stop smiling at having been remembered.

"Uh," he greets them with an excited clearing of his throat. He's still sitting on his little roll thing, rubbing at his eye like he'd just poked it out. "Hey, little guy."

Avery's response is a giggle that sounds almost shy. If Craig were a dog, Tweek's sure his tail would be wagging.

"So, what are you two doing here?" Craig asks with a bit of a laugh. He stands and tries to step towards Tweek, but ends up tripping over his creeper. He flails wildly to try and keep his face from smacking into the cement he's heading for. Tweek reaches out his free arm as if he might catch the stumbling giant, but Craig catches himself on the side of the car. He laughs off his terrible footing, and rubs the back of his neck with reddening cheeks.

"G-gosh, don't scare me like that," Tweek scolds as he squeezes Avery against his side.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm sorry," Craig digs his teeth into his bottom lip, and then kicks his creeper back under the car to avoid anymore embarrassing mishaps. "But, um, yeah! What are you guys doin' here?"

"Oh," Tweek mutters. "There's um… my car's overheating, and my coolant's low… I think it's leaking?"

"Uh oh," Craig blurts.

"What? Oh god, is it serious?! Is my car gonna b-bLOW!? It's gonna blow, isn't it?"

"No, probably not," Craig says as he wipes his hands off with a towel. "Is it here? I can take a look real quick if you'd like. Usually, you can see a leak real easy."

"Uh, yeah, yeah. It's out front."

Tweek gulps down the tightness in his throat as Avery attempts to make conversation with slurred words and ran together sentences. Craig can't understand a damn word the boy is saying, but nods his head anyway as he follows after the boy and his father.

"Do you make cars?" Avery manages to ask, though he's still tripping over his words.

"I don't make 'em, just fix 'em," comes the monotonous reply.

"Oh! So you're a car doctor! Bonnie is our car! She's sick, are you gonna make her better?"

"Of course. What are car doctors for?"

The scorching summer sun beats down on the trio as they gather around Bonnie, Tweek's appropriately named Bonneville. Craig flips up the hood, then waves his face down with his hand.

"Damn, that thing really is roasting." He looks up with eyes like dinner plates when he remembers there's a tiny person beside him. "I mean shoot! I said shoot."

Tweek bites his lip to stifle a snicker, and Craig leans in under the hood like an ostrich burying its head in shame. He takes a quick peak around the engine as he hangs his head. Tweek squeezes Avery to his hip and takes a small step back. When he stands too close to Craig it feels like his lungs are made of lead. He spends the next several moments staring at the side of the mechanics face, pondering if this is really happening or if he's hallucinating from the heat. This is only his second full day back in South Park and fate made sure to cruelly push them back together every opportunity that it's had.

"Hm," Craig mutters. He stands back up straight with his eyebrows pinching together. "Definitely smells funny, but I can't see anything. I'll have to run a pressure test and see if it holds."

Tweek gnaws on his lip again in a subtle show of frustration.

"Okay, h-how long is that gonna take?"

Craig crosses his arms while still peering into the engine.

"Only a few minutes, but we can't open up your cap 'til its cooled down. Give it about an hour."

"An HOUR?" Tweek sputters.

"Yeah… You can have somebody come get you if you don't want to hang around for that long, but the lobby is air conditioned if you need to stay."

Craig's eyes meet his, but only for a moment before Tweek glances down at his feet.

"Daddy, can we stay?" Avery suddenly pipes up. A goofy grin spreads across the boy's face, and Craig accidentally mimics it. "I wanna see the cars!"

"Oh, well…" Tweek's body jerks without his permission, then he lets out a breath he was holding. He quickly mulls over his options. Bebe and Clyde are at work today, so getting a ride would be hopeless. Not to mention pointless considering he'd have to come right back anyway.

"Have you ever fixed a car like RedRacer?" Avery blurts, which derails Tweek's train of thought. "How many do you have? Do you race them?!"

It seems Avery already decided for him.

This is going to be an awkward hour.


	3. Not-So-Happy Meals

Tweek's legs feel so much like jello as he follows after Craig. He can't help but notice small things that have changed. Craig's once long stride is broken down into smaller steps, and his shoulders are much broader. Tweek tries his damnedest not to let his mind linger on old memories. It's kind of hard, though, with Craig just right there in front of him.

Just a few years ago he would have killed to be so close again. Now, all it does is ache.

The trio step into the lobby, and Craig walks around behind the counter. There's a thick book sitting open beside a bulky computer monitor. That dinosaur is probably still running Windows 98, Tweek bets. Craig, however, isn't nearly as intrigued with the technological fossil perched at his workspace. He leans over the open book before him. His blue eyes scan the page as he itches his chin, and then he nods.

"Just gonna write you in, here," he explains while picking a pen up off the counter.

The columned paper is packed with names and dates, prices and car troubles. It feels unreal, though, when Craig presses his pen into a little white box and writes down 'Tweek Tweak'.

"Hmmmm, and today's the 15th, and your engine might be leaking- overheating," he mutters as he jots in the details. He's the only one who ever fills this damn thing out, so he instinctively asks the same question he asks every customer: "And what's your phone number?"

Tweek blinks at him with eyes a little wide at the question, and Craig rubs the back of his neck.

"You know, It's so we can call you if we need to keep your car or if like," Craig stops talking and bites his lip. "…It's okay if you don't want me to have it."

"Oh, it's not like that. I'm just surprised you don't know my number by heart," Tweek admits while shuffling his feet. Craig blinks in bewilderment.

"I do- or… I did. You changed it, I think."

"Oh... Oh, god. Yeah, I did last year. That wasn't cause of you, I promise. I still have yours! I just changed services and like… yeah," Tweek blathers.

Avery is so interested in the model cars on the counter he doesn't even hear the grown ups talking around him. He leans forward in his fathers arms, and his little fingers reach for the prettiest one.

Craig smooths over the situation with a wide smile.

"Yeah, no, I didn't think it was because of me." He makes a pretty convincing liar. "You still don't have to give me your new one if you don't want."

"I… I don't mind," Tweek utters.

Craig turns the book and slides it over to Tweek. He hopes it isn't too obvious that his hands are shaking. The pen still sits between the spine of the pages. Tweek clasps it in his fingers, which are also shaking, and scribbles it down as legibly as possible. His handwriting looks like chicken scratch surrounded by Craig's pretty printed words. He realizes nobody other than himself will be able to read it.

When Craig reaches his hand forward to take the book back, Tweek loses control of his own. Craig freezes when the tip of the pen pokes him. Tweek does his best one-handed to write the number legibly across Craig's rough skin.

"You know," Tweek mutters before setting the pen down on the counter. "So I'm sure you can read it."

Craig swallows some spit that had built up in the back of his throat. He wants to say something in return. If for no other reason than to disguise the beats his heart's missing. He can't find the right words. Instead, he gawks at the marks on his hand. Only now does reality sink in. Tweek is back. He stands in the shop right before Craig. Both arms wrapped around the small boy on his hip.

Both grown ups are so preoccupied with the knots in their bellies they don't even notice the model car Avery's been playing with. He rolls it over his father's shirt sleeves while making quiet 'vroom' noises to himself.

Now Craig sees Avery's new plaything, but his only reaction is a subtle smile.

"You two can take a seat anywhere," Craig says as he gestures around the small room. "I have drinks in a cooler under here if you get thirsty."

Tweek nods in thanks, and then gently sets Avery on the floor where he can play. Tweek slips a thumb under a strap over his shoulder. Only now does Craig notice Tweek has been wearing a little backpack. It's baby blue and covered in tiny cartoon foxes. A baby bag, how cute. He unzips the bag and digs around inside while Avery bounces at his feet. The child's hand reaches up for the toy Tweek lowers to him. A stuffed rabbit with mismatched eyes.

"Play good, okay, Ave?" Tweek coos as the child squeezes the rabbit against his chest.

The boy decides the best place to play is at Daddy's feet. When Tweek picks a padded chair near the counter, Avery sits down between his legs.

"Aren't you going to go back to the garage?" Tweek ponders as he watches Craig shuffle around the counter.

"Ah, no. We aren't really allowed to leave people alone in the lobby."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah, this dude tried to break into the register one time. Dad likes us to hang around when someone's in here now."

"Dad? Thomas works here, too?"

"Oh, yeah. He's the owner. Started up the place and wanted it to be a family deal," Craig says, "That's why it's named TNT. Get it? Tucker 'n Tucker."

Craig leaves the counter to take a seat, too. Not the one beside Tweek, but the one beside the one beside Tweek. He feels like the extra chair can hold the six years of heaviness between them.

Craig feels bad for the chair.

"That's cool, actually. It's good to know you and Dad are doing so good for yourselves. Hows Mom? And Ruby?" Tweek ponders aloud once Craig seems comfortable in his seat.

"Pretty good. Mom does a lot around the shop, and Ruby works at a factory in North Park. She has like five motorcycles now, I think."

Tweek smiles too.

"That's good. I'm so glad."

Craig rubs his thumbs together in thought. His mind is derailed when he catches a whiff of something faint yet familiar. A smell. Smells like… like a picture of the house where he grew up. Something like warm bedsheets and the morning sun peeking in through fluttering drapes. It's the smell of curling toes and quiet, groggy laugher. The smell of home; of Tweek.

"You still wear the same cologne?"

"Hm?" Tweek utters as he tries to smooth down Avery's wild hair. He should know better by now, the boy has the same crazy mane he does. "Cologne? I'm sorry, is it too strong?"

"Oh. No, I just haven't smelled it in a long time, I guess."

"You're smelling me?"

"Well- not on purpose!"

Tweek laughs louder than he means to, then bites his lip when he notices Craig turn away to conceal the redness on his face.

The gap between them is bridged when a little boy wiggles his way into the empty seat. The tension smothering Craig and Tweek releases it's hold on them when Avery yells in excitement, "Can you smell _me_? What do _I_ smell like?"

"Like Cheeto dust and cookie crumbs, you little junk food fiend," his father says.

"Yay!" Avery half-squeals, throwing his arms in the air. In his professional four-year-old opinion, Cheeto's and cookies are the best things a person can smell like.

Craig smiles a little when the boy looks up at him with a huge grin. Avery's very existence is still so surreal to Craig. Tweek with a baby. Tweek with a son. He'd hate to admit how overwhelming it is when he thinks too much about it.  
He feels something press into his arm. Something hard, but mobile, up from his elbow to the bright color in his shoulder.

" _Vrooom_!" he hears from beside him. The wheels of a model car squeak against his skin as Avery uses his tattoos as a drag strip.

"Oh, Avery. Where did you get that from? Craig's counter?" Tweek scolds with his hands gripping his hips. The momest of all mom poses. "What did I say about taking others things without asking?"

Avery's little eyes gaze down at the car. They're wide in thought as he searches his brain for the right answer. "You said that… you said that all the things are mine!"

"Ohhhhh, I sure did not!" Tweek turned his attention to Craig, pointing at his mini-me. "I did not tell him that, dear god. It was probably Clyde, ugh."

"That's okay," Craig assures with a smile. "He can keep it if he wants."

"Huh? You don't have to do that, he's got lots of toys at home," Tweek assures while he rubs the back of his neck. He's a little embarrassed by Avery's grabby-hands, but doesn't want to make a move to try and take Avery's new plaything away. That little boy is as sweet as can be, but damn can he cry.

"Really, it's fine. I have like a thousand more of the same kind at home," Craig replies. "Me and my dad put them together. As like… a hobby, I guess. If Avery doesn't take it we'll probably just pack it away when we make new ones."

"Oh… well…"

Avery pouts his lip out as far as he can get it. It's his secret weapon he only pulls out on special occasions. The harder he can pout the better his chances of a yes.

"I suppose that's okay, then."

"Well, would you look at that," Craig utters. "It's already been about an hour. Wanna go take a peek?"

Tweek nods at him, and soon they're back out in the parking lot. It really is cool to see Craig work, Tweek realizes. He remembered when they were much younger. Craig liked to poke around under the hoods of his dad's many cars and try to explain to Tweek how an engine worked. In an odd way, Tweek felt pride as Craig was once again trying to explain the mechanics behind such things.

He's so happy he gets to see who Craig grew up to be.

Craig, however, is so focused on Tweek's engine he doesn't even notice it's owner's smile. This was probably a good thing, seeing as how they already had their fair share of awkward moments.

"Luckily, it's just what I thought," Craig utters. "Just had a leak in a hose. She'll need some more antifreeze, but otherwise she'll be fine."

"So you're already done?"

"Yup."

"Oh! That's good then!" Tweek starts digging around in his pockets. Avery's glued to his father's pant leg as he watches him extract a brown, leather square from his pocket.

"H-how much do I owe you?" he ponders as he digs through his wallet for his debit card.

"Nothing. It was just some spare hose I had laying around, don't worry about it."

Tweek cocks a brow at that long lost face, and a bit of a smirk buds on his lips.

"Do you always work for free, then?" Tweek teases, still digging through his wallet.

"No, but with a cute enough face you can get some things on the house."

"Uhh," Tweek lets out as if the air's been torn from his lungs. He's stopped looking through his wallet.

Craig's cheeks are tinted red from his daring line, but he laughs at Tweek's expression anyways.

"I'm just messing with you," he assures Tweek through a snicker.

Tweek laughs, too. He laughs, even though the bubbles gurgling in the pit of his belly are making him a little woozy. He's so busy reminding himself that he isn't here for Craig he forgets why he even has his wallet out.

"Well, me and Avery should get going," Tweek says before hoisting the boy into his arms. He looks down at his son and pats the child's back. "Thank him for your new toy, Ave. Say: Thank you, Craig."

Avery bounces with excitement against Tweek's chest before he yells in a slurred, cracking voice: "Thank you, Cwaig!"

Dear God, Craig has to contain the loudest AWWW the world has ever known. That boy has the potential to steal his heart right out from under him.

"Well, I guess I owe you a thanks, too. For fixing my car," Tweek says. "Seriously. I have no idea what I would have done if you didn't-"

"Hey, it's no big deal," Craig interrupts with a nod. "Just doing my job, after all."

"Well… It's a big deal to us," Tweek replies as he gives his boy a little squeeze.

Craig swallows, and then nods back. "Okay, well… if you and Avery ever need anything all you have to do is give me a call."

Tweek smiles the sweetest smile Craig had ever seen. It makes his chest thump and his throat feel wet. Seems Avery isn't the only one after his heart.

"I know," Tweek replies. He turns to set Avery down in his car seat. The boy wiggles as his father tries to fasten him in.

"Bye, Cwaig!" he yells through slurred words and skipped letters.

Craig leans down so the boy can see him, and then gives him a little wave.

"Bye, little racer."

…

It's been a few days since Tweek's last chance meeting with his ex boyfriend. Not a whole lot happened between then and now, besides this moment right here. They've yet to exchange a single text or call since he'd been back, but he might just have to after this. Hopefully to deliver some good news, though Tweek doubts it.

This is it. The North Park McDonald's.

Tweek was sure this interview wasn't going to go well to begin with.

If his shaking and twitching wasn't going to be enough to rule him out the child stuck to his arm will be. Bebe and Clyde are in Denver with their girls today, and Tweek doesn't have anyone else to watch him. Thus explains Tweek's heavy breathing. His palms are so sweaty Avery has to grip extra hard so his tiny hand doesn't slip out of it.

"O-Okay, Ave," Tweek says as he squats down on the sidewalk before his son. "Daddy is going in for an interview; so maybe he can get a job. I need you to be on your extra best behavior, alright?"

The boy nods hard in understanding, and, with a deep sigh, Tweek is finally ready to face a terrible rejection.

The glass door of the store swings open and his sneakers squeak on linoleum. Shit, there's a cluster of customers at the counter. He licks the roof of his mouth in a sad attempt to wet it before creeping up alongside the crowd. He looks for the girl he'd spoken to before, since the idea of asking a stranger makes him want to puke a little.

"What can I do for you, sir?" comes a voice that makes him jump back. He manages to suppresses a scream. A brunette girl in a black uniform is staring at him expectedly from behind the busy counter. She looks winded, as if she's been running marathons back there. Having worked in food service before, Tweek figures that's exactly what she's been doing.

"Um… Interviews? I'm here about an interview." Wow, he manages to choke that out pretty clearly.

"Oh! You can just sit along the wall there," she points her finger to a row of small tables by the window. "A manager will be with you in a minute."

With that she turns and power walks away. With how the crew is flying around back there, Tweek hopes he ends up making the food rather than taking orders. If he gets a job at all.

He's still got his child's hand in his when he sits in one of the tables she'd pointed to. It's just a tiny tabletop with two chairs anchored on either side. Avery ends up in his lap, as usual, while they wait for this manager.

"Can I get a happy meal?" Avery ponders in a slurred, squeaky voice only his father can understand.

"After this. If you be real good when Daddy talks to this person, I'll even get you some ice cream."

Avery smiles wide at the offer, and nods. The boy is back to using his dad's arms as a race track when someone finally approaches them. He hugs Craig's car to his chest with distrust at this new person. A tall and big person holding an envelope in his chubby fist.

"You the one here for the interview?" the man asks. He's eying Tweek as if judgment has already began.

"Um… yeah! Yeah, that's me."

He sets Avery down before standing to face the manager. The man's in black dress slacks and an orange button-up shirt. Tweek is surprised the tie round his neck isn't strangling him through his neck fat. Tweek decides he doesn't like this guy when he peers down at his son with a subtle scowl. Avery takes a nervous step behind his father.

"We don't have a bring your kid to work day, I hope you know," the manager says as his mouth twists in annoyance.

"No, I know, I j-just." Fuck, here comes the stuttering. "We just moved here a few days ago. I didn't have anyone to watch him so-"

"Don't care," the manager interrupts before turning away. "Come on, lets get this over with, Twitchy."

Twitchy? Is he already twitching? Jesus, this guy is an asshole. With a quiet growl, Tweek follows the manager through the store. Past the brown tile floor and clusters of eating customers there's a pair of white double doors. The room beyond it is nothing but empty tables and large windows. A whole wall of large windows that allow a good view of the parking lot. Opposite of said wall is a television and a white board. This looks like a place for parties and staff meetings.

The afternoon sun pouring in is ungodly bright, but at least there will be witnesses if this guy tries to kill him and Avery.

The manager choses a large wooden table in the center of said room. It looks more like it belongs in someone's dining room than in a McDonald's, But Tweek doesn't question it. His interviewer pulls out a chair for himself. Tweek is half expecting the ass of his pants to blow out when he bends down, but the chair only groans under the weight of him.

"Well, what are you waiting for?"

"Huh?" Tweek almost screams.

"This'll probably be easier on all of us if you'd sit down."

"Oh."

Tweek does as he's asked, and so does Avery. The boy climbs up in the wooden chair beside his father, then opts to quietly play with his car.

Tweek rubs his thumbs together under the table to suppress his urge to pull out his hair. Of every manager in the store, why did he have to end up with this asshat? Said manager lays some papers out on the table. He chooses one from the small stack, and then pulls a pen from his shirt pocket. Tweek leans forward to try to read what he's writing. The interview doesn't really start till he asks some questions. It's probably not good that his fat fingers are already jotting things down.

"So… Tweek." Asshat, as Tweek has dubbed him, looks up as if he doesn't believe that's really his name and stops writing. "Tweek Tweak... It says on the application you submitted that you've worked in fast food before."

"Well, no. Not fast food. I worked in a restaurant. Or, a few restaurants."

"And… what were your responsibilities?"

"Well, I was a cook, then a waiter. I had just gotten into management at my last job before we moved here."

Now should be the time the interviewer writes on his fancy little form, but he's too fixated on Tweek's face. The blond swallows and scratches at his arm through his sweater. He can't handle being stared at.

"You know, I used to go to school with a kid named Tweek," says the man across the table as he taps his chin with his pen.

"O-oh… well, I didn't go to North Park, so that's weird."

Tweek goes back to clawing at his sweater sleeve when the man before him doesn't answer. Just stares. Never in his life has he been confused for someone else, and God knows there's not another person on this earth named Tweek Tweak. He tries to reach back in his brain to catch an idea of who this person could be, but nothing about him is familiar.

"Well, I suppose it doesn't matter. He moved away a long while ago, after his dad got sent to prison for beating him or something."

It takes everything Tweek has not to grind his teeth together. Now he's sure this asshole is messing with him. Whoever he is, he knows there's only one Tweek, and he knows he's speaking to him.

A pair of hands much smaller than his own grab for Tweek's wrist under the table. He unclasps his fingers to rest them atop the tiny fist clutching his sleeve. Avery must have noticed his father's shaking.

"He went to prison for selling drugs," Tweek corrects his interviewer through clenched teeth. He only hopes Avery didn't catch that, but it's likely considering the boy is peeking over the edge of the table. Asshat's eyebrows raise slightly, and then his gaze falls on the child. After their eyes meet Avery ducks back under the safety of the tabletop.

"Ah, well, stories change when they're passed around. I'm going to go ahead and offer you a job."

Tweek thinks his eyes might fall out of his head if he opens them any wider.

"W-what? But you hardly asked me anything."

"I just told you I'd hire you. Are you really trying to debate with me?"

"No, no! I was just-"

"Okay, great. I'll see you at eight am on Monday, then. It'll be orientation so bring two forms of identification. You'll get your uniforms and we'll put you on next week's schedule."

Tweek is speechless as the man across from him stands and straightens out his shirt. Is this guy just messing with him? He has to be. Tweek's mouth again goes dry as the heavy set man walks away.

"Wait," Tweek says as he shoots up from his seat. The wooden legs squeal across the tile floor, which catch the manager's attention.

"You didn't even tell me your name."

"You really need to ask? I guess I do look different since high school."

Tweek looks a little harder. Those round, brown eyes and slicked hair don't look so familiar. At least not until Tweek realizes there should be a blue hat framing them.

"Oh, God. No way… Eric?"

Cartman offers a bit of a snide smile before nodding his head.

"So I'll see you next Monday?"

Tweek says yes out of necessity, and then makes a mental note to find another job as soon as possible.


	4. Holy Toledo !

The day is usual for Craig.

He wakes up early in the morning because he fell asleep before it got dark the previous night. The mattress creaks under him as he rolls from one side to the other, as if he might find somewhere more comfortable despite both sides being the same. The sheer emptiness of his bed bothers him, so he gets up early, too.

For Craig, work doesn't start until the afternoon. His dad will work from six in the morning until two, and Craig picks up the slack from there. At least that's the plan. Since the emptiness of his bed tends to bleed into the rest of the house, he likes to show up a few hours early just to stand in the garage and talk to his father.

His sigh echos as he makes his way into the kitchen. He rubs the sleep from his eyes so he can read the labels on his coffee creamers, and then pours a cup.

This is when Craig notices a slip of paper on the kitchen table. It's got his own handwriting scrawled across it; Tweek's number. It had to be washed off his hand eventually, so he preserved it.

Now the question is if he's brave enough to use it. Tweek gave it to him rather eagerly. He obviously wanted Craig to have it, but the thought of sending a text makes his palms sweat. All the years Tweek was gone he hardly ever replied to Craig's messages.

In fact, if it wasn't for the few heartbreaking late night calls he received, he would have thought Tweek had long forgotten about him. Why does Tweek want to reconnect now? Does being back home change something? That's hard to tell, considering Craig doesn't know why he was dropped to begin with.

Not only does he desperately miss Tweek, he also has a mountain of unanswered questions.

A chair whines against the floor when Craig pulls it out and takes a seat. He plays with the paper like a kid who doesn't want to eat his dinner plays with his food.

One text. One wouldn't hurt. If Tweek replies then it's all good, if he doesn't than that's fine, too. There's really nothing to lose. The more he thought about it the tighter his throat got.

'Good morning, sunshine.'

Oh, wait. The sunshine is probably a little much.

'Good morning.'

Does the period make it look too formal? Is _good_ morning maybe too much? He doesn't want to come off weird. Talking to Tweek is something he'd like to start doing again. One dumb hello message could potentially ruin that, as well as foil his quest for answers.

After some consideration, he finally decides upon a simple and sweet ' _morning_ '. He hits send as soon as he's finished pressing the ' _g_ ' in morning. He doesn't want time to change his mind, but immediately regrets it. He drops his phone on the table, smashes his face against his crossed arms, and huffs in frustration.

That's it. His only option now is to throw his phone in a fire and forget he ever did that.

"Craig, you are a goddamn loser," he utters to himself.

As minutes tick by he decides it best to change out of his pajamas and get ready for the day. He can't sit all morning staring at his phone, after all. He's already halfway in the living room when he hears what sounds like a faint vibration. His heart leaps out of his throat and he runs back to the kitchen, nearly slipping as his socks slide across the tiles.

He snatches his phone from the table.

' _1 new message_ '

 _I swear to god if that's Clyde I'm going to burn down the Taco Bell,_ he thinks to himself before sliding his finger across the screen. Clyde isn't the name he sees, though.

TWEEK.

Tweek. It's TWEEK. Holy shit he answered.

'Morning to you, too. What's up?'

What's up? What _is_ up? God Craig, calm down.

'Not much. Drinking coffee. You?'

He gets two new messages. One right after another.

'That's my line Haha,' Is the first. Craig laughs a little to himself.

'And watching RedRacer with Avery,' is the second.

'You got good taste.'

'I'd say you're to blame for that lol'

Craig occupies himself with getting dressed for a little while. He doesn't want to seem too eager to answer every little message, but he can't ignore the beat his heart skips every time his pocket vibrates.

He feels stupid. He can't even count how many times he's reminded himself Tweek didn't just leave yesterday, and this conversation needs to lead to more than idle chit chat.

Before Craig could reply, another message rang through his phone.

'I got a job,' Tweek wrote, 'It's at McDonalds. It's something, at least. I was gonna tell you when I got my interview but I didn't know if you'd mind.'

'Ah, I wouldn't have minded! That's awesome, Eric Cartman is probably gonna be your boss tho.'

'He is! He was weirdly nice to me. I'm just gonna work there til I find something else.'

'Good plan.'

'Yeah.'

The conversation dies as Craig tries to think of what to say. He has plenty of questions, but they're all hard and intrusive ones. He doesn't want to cross a line. So he just stares blankly at his screen.

As he tries to conjure up more idle conversation, his phone starts to vibrate. It's strings of text. They're chopped up sentences that form a rambling paragraph. Every one is from Tweek. His chest twists uncomfortably as he waits for the string to slow. Here Craig was, afraid he'd look stupid trying to reconnect, and it's Tweek tripping over himself.

'Okay I'm just gonna go ahead and say it,' reads the first message.

'I'm sorry I've been awkward? I just hardly know what to say when we run into each other. I mean, I've got so much I could talk about but when I open my mouth mush just comes out. It's probably because I haven't seen you in so long? And, you know... everything else.'

'That's alright. I think we were both just really taken by surprise.'

This would be the perfect opportunity to casually ask to meet for coffee or something sometime, mostly to talk through the tension between them. Perhaps they wouldn't be quite as wild eyed and tongue tied if they expected to cross paths. Then again, Craig's too nervous of rejection to risk it.

'I think you got more of a surprise than I did,' pops up on tweeks side of the thread. 'I'm sorry I didn't talk to you more after we broke up. Or that I didn't tell you I was coming back.'

Craig blinks at the apology. By now he's sitting partially dressed at his kitchen table. His work shirt is still folded to the left of him, and his jeans didn't make it up past his knees. He's too focused on his phone to worry about such things.

'Hey, it's okay,' craig assures. He only hopes his typed words are as sincere as his voice would be. 'I know it's been years, but idk. We used to be so close. I'm not mad or anything, I just want to know why that changed like it did.'

He's trying to be careful with each word. He doesn't want any wrong emotion to come through in his texts.

'Well, are you coming to Clyde's party this weekend? We should probably talk about this in person.'

Craig's heart jolts up into his throat. His palms go clammy, and his breath catches in his ribs.

'I didn't know Clyde was having a party,' he admits.

'Oh! He must not have got to you yet. It's a welcome home party this Saturday. So technically it's mine, but Clyde's throwing it. It'll be us and all the kids, but I'm sure we'll be able to find time to talk.'

'Sounds awesome. I'll be there.'

By now Craig's finally returned his attention to his clothes. He's tucking his work shirt into his unzipped pants when Tweek replies. This time, he finishes up before looking at his phone.

'Cool :) and don't be worried. You can text me whenever you want. I'll reply, promise.'

**…**

Later the same evening, Tweek is sitting on a bench beneath an oak tree. Since he joined the family, he volunteered to play mother hen while Bebe and Clyde are at work. Today, he and the kids decided to visit the park.

It was a great choice, in Avery's opinion. When the world is so warm and sunny, it just doesn't make sense to stay inside! He, Claudia, and Charlotte have been playing beneath the jungle gym and sipping on lemonade Daddy brought along.

It would be perfect, if not for the person standing on the edge of the grass. Avery isn't sure what to make of the lingering stranger. The man is wearing a light jacket with the hood over his head. His face is just as much of a mystery considering the red bandana tied snugly around it.

"Avery!" Claudia chimed as she takes his hand and snaps him from his trance. "You're gonna be my husband!"

"Ah! W-what?!" he demands. Just like That, he's forgotten about the man in the bandana.

"Yeah! We're playing house, so you have to be Daddy and I'm going to be Mommy," Claudia decides.

"Um," Avery blurts, befuddled. The idea is odd to him. He, unlike Claudia, doesn't have a good grasp on what playing house entails. Usually, Avery opts to play RedRacer.

"What's Charlotte gonna be?" he asks, tossing his gaze to the oldest of all of them.

Charlotte, Claudia's big sister, sits in the grass beside the jungle gym. She watches them both quietly, less like a fellow child at play and more like a babysitter.

"Charlotte will be the baby!"

Avery wants to argue that she's too big to be a baby. In fact, she's the only big kid around, but he doesn't get the chance to object.

"Before we get married, we have to get engaged. So propose to me!"

Engaged? Now that was a word Avery heard before! Aunt Bebe once said it to Daddy.

"What does that mean?" He asks, eyes wide and curious.

"Propose means you ask me to marry you! You get engaged right before you get married, silly! Don't boys know anything?"

Married? He reached into the back of his mind to remember what Aunt Bebe said. She was talking to Daddy about Craig. She said _they_ were engaged. Daddy and Craig were going to get married?

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices movement along the edge of the playground. It's that man. The one in the hood with his face covered. The man inches closer and closer to him and his friends as he watches them.

Avery shoots a glance back to the bench. He has to make sure Daddy is still there, and he is. He waves at Avery reassuringly, and the knot in the boy's belly settles a little.

"What's the matter?" Claudia asks. "Am I gonna have to show you how to do it?"

"Um, I guess so."

The man works up the nerve to come even closer. This time, Avery can't ignore him. He's walking quickly, but not changing direction. He's coming towards them. In a panic, Avery looks back to the bench. Daddy isn't on it anymore. He noticed the stranger, too, and is jogging to get to the children before he does. Tweek, however, is a little too late. He's in a jog when the stranger kneels down beside the jungle gym, uncomfortably close to Avery.

"Hey, there, little man," the stranger mutters through his red bandana. "What's your name?"

Avery jumps to his feet and runs to his father, who's snuck up behind the stranger and grabbed him by the shoulder. The strange man is jerked to his feet. Daddy has one fist balled around the fabric of the jacket and the other curled into a dangerous looking fist.

"What the _fuck_ do you think you're doing?" Daddy growls with his teeth bared.

That was a bad word! He never heard Daddy use it before! Claudia and Charlotte are just as taken aback by the sudden confrontation.

"Wow! Hold on man!" The stranger squeaks while raising his hands in a show of submission. "What the hell! You ain't gotta deck me!"

Daddy's brows raise in surprise, and then fall again in annoyance. He grips the man's bandana and tugs it under his chin.

"Kenny? Kenny McCormick?" Daddy asks, and his fist lowers. "Jesus- agh! Man what the- I mean! You can't just walk up to people's kids like that- HOLY toledo! This is a playground! I about broke your nose!"

The man, named Kenny, Avery supposed, stepped out of his father's grip and patted off his jacket.

"Well one of them is mine, ya idgit! I didn't see Bebe or Clyde anywhere, so I," Kenny trails off, and his frustrated scowl transforms into a lopsided, but dazzling grin. "Wait a damn minute, Tweek? That you?"

"Yes, don't cuss in front of the-" Daddy's sentence is cut off when Kenny grabs him around the middle and lifts him off the ground in a crushing bear hug.

The air is squeezed out of his lungs, but he still breathlessly laughs.

"Okay, okay," Daddy groans as he pats the stranger on the back. "I get it, I missed you, too."

"You almost just punched my Papa!" Charlotte squeals with giggles. From the way she's holding her stomach with laughter, she very much would have liked to see that. Papa? The weirdo in the funny orange jacket is Charlotte's Daddy?

Kenny drops to his knees before the girl, and then ruffles her curly blond hair. Avery can tell they're related the moment Kenny cocks a wide, mischievous grin. Charlotte doesn't smile much, but it looks just like that when she does.

"You woulda just let Tweek wail on your old man, wouldn't cha?" Kenny says, still wearing his smirk.

"Yes!"

"Wow, thanks."

"This is what happens when you roughhouse with her all the time," yet another voice scoldes. "Now all she wants is to see you beat up."

By now, Avery is already hiding behind Daddy's legs. He hunkers behind them even more when he takes notice of a man who appeared beside Kenny. Avery doesn't know where he came from or how he got there so fast, but he's there. He's just as tall as Daddy is, but his hair is flaming red. That's the same color as RedRacer!

"Kyle?" Daddy asks.

The man, Kyle, smiles softly and nods his head before muttering, "You'll have to forgive my husband. He doesn't think before he does things."

"It's fine, really, I just hardly recognized you guys," Tweek says. Honestly, he's mostly talking about Kyle. if Bebe hadn't told him who Kenny's with, Tweek would have never guessed this redheaded man was Kyle Broflovski. Or… Kyle McCormick, apparently?

He's much taller since Tweek last saw him. His cute, round face is slimmer and defined, and his wide eyes seem more narrow with age. On top of that, his once boyish, button nose is long and crooked. It must have been broken at some point. Despite the changes, Kyle is still in the running for most attractive man in South Park.

"Well, it has been years since we last crossed paths," Kyle replies. "It's good to see you back home."

Kyle squats down to greet Charlotte and Claudia, who are jumping at his feet. It's cute, Tweek thinks, how two families adore those girls. Even though Claudia is Clyde's, not Kenny's, Kyle greets her just as excitedly as He does Charlotte. He throws his arms around them both and reels them in for a tight hug.

They are lucky girls.

As they excitedly tell Kyle about their day, he notices a pair of round, green eyes peering at him from behind Tweek's leg. Kyle smiles at the boy, but Avery hides further behind Daddy.

"And who is this?" Kyle ponders.

"That's Avery!" Claudia announces, her eyes wide with excitement. "He's my new best friend! Oh, and that is his Daddy!"

He points a chubby finger at the man Avery's cowering behind. Tweek can only smile awkwardly. Craig's not the only one who didn't know about Tweek's misadventures in Virginia. Besides the whispered rumors about things Bebe and Clyde mentioned over the years, no one really knew what became of him after he left, let alone about Avery.

"Daddy?" Kenny blurts. "I thought you were gay."

Tweek's face flushes, and he nervously pulls at the buttons on his shirt.

"No, no," Tweek corrects. "I'm bi. Avery is my son."

Kyle throws his husband a scolding look, to which Kenny shrinks with his hands up in surrender.

"Sorry, babe. I was just curious."

"It's fine," Tweek interjects with an awkward smile plastered on his face. "It's just- people were never forward with sexuality in Virginia. It's nice to feel open with those kind of things again."

Kyle's smile returns to him, and he reaches out past the girls to offer his hand to Avery.

"Hello there, little guy."

Avery looks up at Daddy, at Kyle's hand, and then back to Daddy. When his father gives him an encouraging nod of his head, Avery inches around his leg to touch the stranger's hand. Kyle gently squeezes his fingers in a handshake.

"It's nice to meet you," Kyle greets. The moment his hand slips away from Avery's, though, the boy shrinks back behind his father.

"I'm sorry," Tweek says as he lays his hand atop his boy's head. "Avery's usually as reckless as a hurricane, but he's scared of strangers. He'll be more friendly when he gets to know you."

Tweek turned to look down at the boy clutching his pants.

"Isn't that right, buddy?"

Avery smiles, though just the smallest bit.

"Hey," Kenny pipes up, "a lot's happened since we last talked. How about we take the kids and catch up over some ice cream? The Dairy Bar is right down the road."

"Ice cream?" Claudia squeals with delight. "I want ice cream! Can we, Tweek, can we!?"

"Well… let me text your mother and see what she says."

Tweek isn't comfortable with the arrangement unless he knows Bebe is. As Kenny and Kyle entertain the girls, he pulls out his phone.

' _Just ran into your baby daddy and his hubby. They want to catch up over ice cream with the girls. Yay or Nay?'_

Despite being at work, it only takes her a moment to reply.

' _You're adorable, bae. That's fine. Claudia is allergic to strawberries and peanuts.'_

Tweek quirks a lip. It's cute what a doting mother his best friend turned into.

' _Kk. Fill u in later.'_

"Was 'at her?" Kenny asks, brows raised. He seems desperate for this trip to the Dairy Bar, but Tweek has a feeling it has less to do with catching up and more to do with spending time with his daughter.

"Yeah, yeah. She says it's fine. Let me grab my things."

With his foxy backpack over his shoulder, and his son's hand in his, the caravan of dads make their way down the sidewalk. Kyle slides in between the girls when they start to fight over who gets to hold his hand. Though they each get one to cling to, they still make faces at each other when he isn't looking. Kenny chews on the end of a toothpick as he hangs behind his family. Tweek notices the sliver of wood when Kenny flashes a smile at him. He manages a weak grin in return.

"I owe you a belated congrats. Looks like you've started a little family." Kenny makes a subtle nod of his head towards the child attached to Tweek's side. Tweek's lost expression transforms into a contented smile.

"Yeah, I have. My son's my best friend. We've spent every day together since he was born… crazy how things change, isn't it?"

"You could say that. Lot's happened. Damn, Charlotte was still just in a cradle when you left."

"Oh, yeah, she was only a few months old. God. You and Bebe were still just kids yourselves," Tweek bites his bottom lip in consideration before continuing. "Things were hard for you back then. I'm glad you seem much happier now."

"I am happier, than I've ever been, actually." Kenny's talking to Tweek, but his eyes stay straight ahead of them. His smile gets bigger when Kyle catches the girls making faces. Kyle laughs, and, instead of scolding them, makes a few faces of his own.

"I'm only where I am thanks to the people who didn't give up on me. I'm just lucky they were there, I guess."

At that, Tweek can't help but frown. It's guilt, he supposes. Guilt for knowing he wasn't one of those people, though he should have been. It feels wrong that Tweek got away, and Kenny was left behind to deal with it all alone. Tweek's voice drops to a whisper so the little ears surrounding them wouldn't hear.

"Hey, I… I'm sorry. You were one of my best friends and- I should have been there. At least called you to make sure you were okay. When I moved all I could think about was checking on you- I just-"

He didn't realize just how many apologies he had to make until he started handing them out.

"Hey, hey, don't get all sappy, now," Kenny muttered, matching his friend's tone. "You coulda loved me with all your heart, but that don't change the fact the last thing you needed in your life was another druggie. You were going through hell, too, and you gotta put yourself first."

Tweek squeezed Avery's hand tighter. He could see the sign for the Dairy Bar now. It was just down the street.

"Really, though, I'm glad you're home. I'ont think you know how everybody missed you," Kenny continues, his voice still low. "I always thought of you like another brother, we went through so much together. Was heartbroken when we lost touch, but Kyle and I still wondered about you all the time."

Tweek listens, but doesn't speak. These are intimate things Kenny has to say, and it had been years since they had this kind of conversation. He didn't realize how much he missed Kenny until now. His eyes almost swell up with water at the thought.

"I know we like," Ken stops to laugh, "we just reconnected via a fist in the face."

Tweek stifles a snort, then they both laugh together. Avery doesn't know the meaning of their spontaneous fit, but laughs with them anyway. Tweek ruffles his son's wild hair.

"I'm proud of you, though," Kenny concludes, "I can tell you've become a good man. Good father."

It's the most touching compliment anyone's ever given him, and Tweek doesn't know what to say. With each person he reunites with, he feels more stupid for not coming back sooner.

"T-thank you."

Finally, the group of dads herd the kids into the Dairy Bar. It's still the same ice cream joint Tweek held in his memory. The white walls are still painted with the same ridiculous cartoon characters, and obnoxiously red booths still line the walls. His heart sinks a little when they pass the tiniest booth closest to the doors. It's built for two, one little chair across from another. He and Craig were just twelve when they carved their initials in the tabletop. He can't help but lean over it just a bit as they pass. The crudely scratched letters remain, though they faded in ten years time.

There are little bits and pieces of his years with Craig scattered all around this town. His gut starts to flutter when he thinks about Craig, and how Clyde's little get together is scheduled for tomorrow night. He's excited, but mostly nervous. He pushes the thought to the back of his mind to try and enjoy his unexpected visit with Kenny and company.

It goes just about how Tweek expects.

They all sit across a table. Avery and Tweek have an entire side to themselves while Kenny and Kyle sit on either end of their booth. The girls are sandwiched between them, sharing licks of each other's ice cream. They exchange stories, reminisce about the last six years, and clean said ice cream off kid's cheeks. Conversation topic begins with Kyle and Kenny's marriage.

Kyle pulls out his phone to share pictures of the wedding, and Tweek reaches for his to rave over pictures of Avery. The kids kick their feet with disinterest in their parent's boring conversations. All except Claudia, who wants to see every picture for herself. Especially the ones of Avery as a baby.

"Oh, man, I have to tell you while we're here," Tweek says. He sets his phone on the table for Claudia to swipe through his photos. Since having a nosy child, there was nothing on his phone he was afraid of a kid coming across. "I already got a job lined up, but you'll never guess who my boss is."

Kyle and Kenny look at each other with raised brows, and then to Tweek.

"Who?" they ask in nearly perfect unison.

"Eric freakin Cartman."

"Oh, god. McDonald's then?" Kyle ponders, to which Tweek nods with tight lips.

"Have fun with that one. Cartman is still just as much of a sociopathic piece of-," Kyle remembers he's surrounded by tiny ones, "let's just say he's exactly as you remember."

"Daddy Kyle," Charlotte interrupts, "Can I get another popsicle?"

"Oh," Kyle pulls his wallet from his jeans and sifts through it for a dollar. Kyle is seated by the window, so he reaches over Claudia and Kenny to hand the bill to Charlotte.

"Wanna walk her up to the counter, Papa?" Kyle asks his husband, who gives him a nod.

"Yeah, be right back."

Kenny plants a kiss on the top of his daughter's head before she climbs out of the booth. Kyle has a view of the counter, so he watches them go as he gets back into the conversation.

"I don't know. He was just as… _unsavory_ as I remember, but he practically handed me the job. It was kind of nice of him- Oh, Avery, you're a mess again." Tweek pauses mid conversation to wipe his son's face off with a napkin. Avery wiggles out of it, embarrassed of being babied in front of Claudia.

"Perhaps there is some shred of humanity left in him," Kyle replies as he stirs his milkshake. "I mean, I've surely never seen it, but miracles do happen."

Tweek snorts, and then the table goes a little quiet. Kyle keeps stirring his milkshake, around and around until it starts to lose it's shake. It's starting to look like plain ol' milk.

Claudia is still scrolling through Tweek's pictures when his phone vibrates in her small hands. She jumps a little, squints at the screen, and then announces in a loud, booming voice, "Uncle Craig is excited about tomorrow night!"

Tweek's face must be priceless as his jaw drops open. He tosses a flustered look at Kyle, who takes the phone from a whining Claudia. He slides it across the table to it's shaking owner, who's cheeks are flushing different shades of red. Tweek snatches it, then crams the thing in his pocket like contraband. He doesn't understand the burning in his face or the knot in his throat. That doesn't stop them from being there.

"That didn't take long," Kyle chimes under his breath. Though he's back to looking into his cup, Tweek can see his shit eating grin.

Everyone in town knows of Tweek's love affair with the Tucker boy. Their marvelous misadventures once left beer cans and love notes scattered about mainstreet. Their endless tales of reckless nights and sweet mornings were overplayed like a billboard hit. From their first playground kiss, to Tweek's marriage proposal, their relationship was the only unwavering guarantee of South Park.

Until Tweek left.

Six years apart hasn't changed their picturesque image, though. Now that Tweek's been crammed back into the setting of his teenage romance, baby in toe, the whole town seems to be holding their breath. All except Kyle.

If their friends aren't laying out bets, surely the rest of the town is. Kyle already laid his hand. He seems to think he's holding a royal flush.

Tweek has to explain himself, even if he doesn't want to.

"It's not like that," Tweek says, embarrassed. "Clyde's just having this get together tomorrow and, uh, C-Craig's gonna be there. "

"Mmhm," Kyle pipes up before sucking on the end of his straw. "That's it, huh?"

"Well, there are conversations to be had, of course…" Tweek mutters. "But yeah. That's it."

Kyle's grin grows wider, but Tweek can't tell what emotion is driving it. It's genuinely good natured, but garnished with mischief. His apple green eyes finally peek from under his wild fringe.

"Guess we'll see."


	5. Vroom, Vroom!

Perhaps the word butterflies isn't adequate to describe how Tweek's guts are churning. It feels more like his innards are being mauled by a bear than being tickled by an insect.

Tweek's hands tremble as he slices a tomato in half. Its one of many ingredients Clyde demands for tacos, but Tweek takes time to avoid cutting his unsteady hands. His eyes dart to the farm-themed clock hanging above his head.

It's nine o'clock.

The party's been in full swing for hours now. Clyde must have sent an invitation to everyone in town, because the house has been packed with old friends and acquaintances like. They exchanged awkward pleasantries about the weather with Stan Marsh, hid from Cartman in the bathroom, and Avery almost got his face ripped off by a flock of older women, if you believe his dramatic retelling of getting his cheeks pinched. Welcomes were warm and the people are kind, even those he's sure had no idea who he was.

Those were his favorite since he wasn't obligated to talk to them.

It's been… okay. But, despite the dying party losing guests by the second, one person still hasn't arrived.

Craig.

He ended up having to work today, and, apparently, it takes him ten years to get ready.

Tweek's phone buzzes against the counter, but it remains untouched as he slices vegetables. He knows who it's from and what it says.

It's also Craig, probably saying he'll be there soon.

They've been texting nonstop since the text Tweek got at the Dairy Bar. He replied, then Craig replied, and the next thing he knew it was two in the morning and they'd exchanged more than four hundred texts. They were simple conversations. Every time anything remotely interesting came up, Craig would deflect with, 'Now, now. If I told you that what would we have to talk about tomorrow?"

Well… today is tomorrow, and soon Craig will be here, in the flesh. It's been so easy to talk to him through texts. Fun, even, but having casual conversation hiding behind a screen is different than what they've planned for tonight.

Just the thought makes his heart slam against his ribs.

He jerks when he feels a tug at his pant leg. He gazes down to find Avery, who stares up at him with a small pout. Tweek would pat him on the head if it wasn't for the slimy tomato juice all over his hands.

"What are you pouting for?" Tweek asks.

Avery pushes up on his tiptoes to get a better look at the counter. He can't see up there, but he knows what his Daddy is doing.

"I want a toto," Avery says, his voice high and slurring.

"You mean a tomato?" Tweek ponders with a small grin.

"Yes, tomato! Can I have one?"

Tweek slices a strip off and hands it to his boy. Avery opens his mouth as wide as he can, then stuffs it full with the tomato slice. As Avery chews, a ridiculously satisfied smile graces his face.

Tweek laughs, and he's forgotten all about how mauled his insides just felt.

"Whatcha makin'?" Avery asks with tomato juice dripping down his chin.

"Tacos, child! We makin' tacos!" Clyde practically screams from across the room. In one hand he grips the handle of a hot skillet, and in the other a spatula. He's chopping beef, and with every click against the bottom of the skillet he swings his hips and lets out a dramatic sound effect.

Leave it to Clyde to incite a random taco-thon at 9 pm.

Tweek kneels down to clean off Avery's face, which is a difficult task since he's taken to mimicking Clyde. He giggles a little louder with every gyration of Clyde's body, but all the socializing made the boy too sleepy to keep up with his energetic uncle.

"You know, you should probably be out mingling instead of hiding in the kitchen from everyone who came to see you," Clyde chimes, still swinging his hips rhythmically.

"Most the people who actually know me went home," Tweek counters before wiping his hands on a paper towel. "Besides, Avery's getting tired. We'll be going to bed right after Craig leaves."

"He can sleep without you, you know."

"No, he can't," Tweek says. His knife thumps against the cutting board. He's back to dicing Clyde's tomatoes. "He'll cry if I don't lay down with him."

Clyde takes his beef off the burner while watching Tweek's son hug him around the leg.

"He's four now. By the time my girls were four they were sleeping in their own bed. It's nice for your kid to be attached to you, but maybe Avery should be learning some independence," Clyde says cautiously. "I mean, you still won't even let us babysit. What are you gonna do when you're at work?"

Tweek lays the knife on the counter. When he walks to the sink, Avery follows quickly behind. He is always, in some way, near his father. Tweek doesn't say anything as he runs warm water over his hands, so Clyde continues.

"You're planning on this big conversation tonight, why not lay him down when you need some privacy and let me and Bebe watch him?"

Tweek glances down at his son, who's playing with the loose string to his apron. All his years working in kitchens makes it hard to part with such garments. They combat his clumsiness, anyway.

"We can try," Tweek says, though the thought makes his stomach churn in a weird way. Clyde's right, Tweek knows that. But after all the years he and Avery spent being inseparable, it seems almost scary to lay him to bed alone.

Uncomfortable conversation is cut short, however, when an odd and mechanical roar pierces through the tension in the kitchen. It sounds like the Nascar starting line relocated to their driveway.

"What the hell is that?" Tweek ponders as he tries to look out the kitchen window.

"Our missing guest, I'd say," Clyde offers as he turns off the stove and heads towards the living room. "Sounds like he's peacocking."

"Peacocking?" Tweek questions.

He follows Clyde, and Avery follows him, as they walk through the house.

"You know, spreading the ol' tailfeathers and putting on a show."

"That clears up nothing whatsoever."

Tweek raises a brow. Clyde isn't going to give him a straight answer.

The rooms are amazingly sparse compared to the crowds they housed just hours earlier. The only people left behind are Bebe and Clyde's good friends, who are gathered out on the porch. Clyde steps out the front door, between Wendy and Annie, Bebe's girl squad.

Tweek can't get a good look at the driveway past their bodies, but he does spot something glistening and growling. His friends seem in awe of it as they lean over the railing.

"It looks so much better with that spoiler on it," Bebe comments as she rests her elbows on the rails.

"That ugly logo kinda takes away from the whole thing, though," Wendy interjects with a lopsided grin.

The boy at Tweek's leg squeals, then again jerks on his father's pants.

"Vroom, vroom!" He mimics the angry engine. "It's Red Racer, Daddy!"

Tweek snickers, at first.

Avery thinks every red car is Red Racer, but his humored chuckle cuts short when he steps on the porch with his friends. He sees the growling beast in all its glistening, blazing glory. It's long, sleek body isn't only red. It sports Red Racer's white logo on the side, and the gravel below it is illuminated with vibrant color. It growls as it's driver door pops open. Rather than swing outward, it swivels and raises like a wing.

When the door raises fully, Tweek can't help but notice the man behind the steering wheel. One leg steps out of the vehicle and onto the gravel. The denim is dark but stonewashed, and brown boots peek from under their hem. He stands from the vehicle, and his blue eyes dust over the porch.

They match gazes.

Tweek is staring at none other than his ex-lover, Craig Tucker.

The Red Racer themed sports car was enough to give him away, but, despite already knowing who would step out, seeing Craig almost literally takes Tweek's breath away. He looks like a completely different person in that nice, blue button up shirt.

Tweek's willing to bet it's the only outfit Craig owns that isn't covered in oil stains.

"I see you've souped up the ol' racer," Clyde shouts, to which Craig does a little bow from the driveway.

Avery, on the other hand, can only jump up and down in excitement. His mouth is hanging open, but nothing comes out as he feverishly points to the vehicle and yanks repeatedly on his father's leg.

"Finally added my lambo doors," Craig replies as said door slides shut behind him.

Craig swings his keys around his finger as he makes his way to the porch. The moment his boot meets the first step, Avery bursts into a million unintelligible questions and squeals.

" _Vroom_!" He exclaims, his pointer finger honing in on Craig rather than his shiny car. Craig chuckles, then tips his head in confusion.

"You have Red Racer!" The child squeals with such elation Tweek is worried he'll pop.

"Yup," Craig says.

He obviously planned to put on a show. He arrived in a customized sports car with his hair slicked back, after all. Now that all eyes are on him, though, his bashful grin remains on his feet.

"It's a hot rod!" Avery declares.

With Avery's tugging and Tweek's own curiosity, they find themselves standing in the driveway, accompanied by Craig and Clyde. Face to face with Craig's magnificent creation, both father and child are lost for words.

"It's a Corvette, 1990, a stingray model. The closest body style I could find to the show," Craig says. "I made the body kit and put lambo doors on myself- been working on it a few years now."

Tweek can't help but smile when he catches Craig's dumb face gawking at him. This grown man put hundreds of man-hours into birthing a pavement shredding beast, but all Tweek can hear is his four-year-old son in Craig's voice.

 _I made it all by myself_! He's saying, _I tried real hard!_

While Tweek is most impressed, he's not so sure it will fit on the fridge as well as Avery's macaroni pictures.

"It's definitely the coolest car I've ever seen. I'm sure there's not another like it in the world."

Avery is even more enamored with the vehicle. He reaches out and touches one of the curves on its metallic body, then lets out an "ahhh" as he does so, as if every life goal he ever had was just achieved with a single touch.

"So, what do you think, Avery? You're the Red Racer aficionado here." Craig leans down to get closer to the boy's level. His hands rest on his knees, and his head tilts. So much like a puppy, Tweek almost can't take it.

"It's amazing!" Avery exclaims, quite dramatically, as he throws his arms in the air. He blurts out more words, but they're so slurred not even his father can decipher them. "It's so- so big! And red! Is this real or a dream?!"

Craig presses his hands into his stomach and laughs like a child.

"Of course it's real!" he says. "I made it myself!"

Avery stares up at the man towering over him with stars glistening in his eyes.

"Racer made his car, too! I have a Red Racer! Daddy made it, though. I didn't make it. I helped! Do you want to see?"

"Um, heck yeah I do!"

Avery giggles almost bashfully then turns to his uncle Clyde.

"Can you open the garage, Uncle Clyde?" Avery asks.

"Yeah, sure, buddy."

Tweek's been so engrossed in Craig he forgot they weren't the only grownups in the driveway. Bebe retreated into the house to put the girls to bed, and her friends have already climbed into their own cars and driven into the sunset. Clyde is the last one standing, though he'll probably turn in after he fishes Avery's most prized possession out of the garage.

They disappear around the porch, and Tweek turns to Craig, who's leaning on ol' red. He hopes it'll make him look cool, all dressed up and propped against a sports car. Tweek looks him up and down, folds his arms against his chest, then says, "Avery's Red Racer is his bike. Doesn't quite hold a candle to this, though."

Tweek gestures to Craig's vehicle.

"You really went, um, all out, tonight."

Craig's 'cool-factor' quickly diminishes when he plays with one of his hat tassels like a bashful teen girl would her hair.

"I wanted to show Avery," Craig admits as he swirls the tassel around his finger. "He's probably the only person who will appreciate it the same way I do."

He's probably right, Tweek can't help but think. Especially when Avery comes biking around the house. His tiny horn squeaks as he rolls down the driveway, eager to share his own Red Racer with Craig. His training wheels squeak to stop in front of them, and he throws his arms into the air.

"Ta-daaa!" the boy chimes. His bike looks pitiful compared to the sports car behind it. It's red paint is already fading, and the Red Racer stickers Tweek doctored it up with are peeling off. The boy is beaming with pride, nonetheless.

"Hey, looks sharp. I bet you've done all kinds of burnouts on that thing!" Craig praises, and Avery giggles.

"Yeah! Do you- do ya wanna see?!"

"Gimme a show, racer."

"Okay!"

Tweek uses the steps of the porch as a stadium and is more than happy to watch his child race back and forth in the drive.

"Here I go!" Avery hollers. He clutches his handlebars, leans forward in his seat, then takes off. His training wheels squeak as he clumsily pedals but hardly notices over the sound of Craig's applause.

When the boy reaches the end of the driveway Tweek offers Craig a smile, then pats the wooden slat beside him.

"You can sit if you want to."

"Um, yeah, alright."

Craig shuffles to the porch, then sinks onto the steps beside his ex-lover. He's perched on the very edge, of course. As close as he can sit to Tweek without being too close.

Avery streams by them. His little tires kick up pebbles and dust as he pulls a sharp turn.

"Did- did you see that, Daddy?" the boy squeals. "I did a burnout!"

"Yeah, you did! That was awesome, Ave. Can you do another?"

"Pfft, yeah! I do them when I sleep!" the boy declares. His tongue sticks out of his mouth as he scoots his bike back to where he wants it, then prepares for some more epic shredding.

"So…" Tweek begins under his breath. He rubs his hands anxiously over the denim on his knees. "You said you wanted to talk? This is probably the best time."

Craig's mouth goes dry at the suddenness of Tweek's suggestion. He wets his lips, then clears his throat. "Okay. I, um, just had a couple questions, I guess. If that's okay."

"That's fine," Tweek says as he tucks his hands between his knees. He focuses on the ever changing colors of the sunset, the glimmering paint on Craig's car, and then the boy riding past them. Anything, really, to keep him from staring at the side of his ex-fiance's face.

"I guess I can start with the easiest ones," Craig begins. Despite the seriousness in his tone, he stops to clap when Avery manages to kick up some more rocks. When the boy looks up with a grin, Craig and his father are all smiles.

When he repositions his bike, however, the smiles fade into awkward laughter and lip biting.

"I want to know what life was like for you in Virginia," Craig works up the courage to say. "From the moment you broke up with me to now- it's all just a big question mark."

The stairs groan softly when Tweek rocks back and forth. It's a small motion, but Tweek breathes a little easier with each gentle tip.

"Sorry, Mr. Tucker," he teases through a crack in his voice, "I like being a mystery. Though… I'm curious, too. Tell me about one of your wild adventures, and I'll tell you about one of mine."

Craig cocks a brow, and Tweek matches his gesture with a grin.

It is an even trade.

"Well, me and Clyde went to Vegas a few years ago. That's my only adventure I classify as wild."

"You have my attention."

"Honestly, I can't tell you a damn thing about it. By the time we left the casino we were plastered. I woke up lost in the desert, half naked, on top of Clyde's minivan. Nearly baked alive up there, but I got a wicked tan."

That earns more laughter from Tweek, though it's louder, and more sincere, than ever before.

"And where was Clyde?"

"Inside said minivan, having a mental breakdown because he threw up a taco. Arguably the best day of my life."

"God, I can't top that."

"Doesn't exempt you from story time. A trade is a trade."

"Well… I guess I can tell you about Virginia," Tweek decides, mostly because it's the least painful conversation topic. At least when talked about in general.

Avery looks back at the grown-ups to make sure they're still catching all his cool moves.

"Daddy! Watch! You aren't watching!" he complains, though his breath sounds raspy and tired. Tweek's not surprised. The boy was about ready for a nap after all that socializing. A few trips around the driveway will knock him out for hours.

"Yeah, I am, bud. I saw your cool trick."

Satisfied with this, the child goes back to his performance.

"It was okay," Tweek mutters as he watches Avery ride in a circle. "Virginia, I mean. It was hot. A lot of mountains, like here. People were stuck up, though. High school was… okay, but lonely. I made a few friends but no one worth mentioning. In short, I hated it."

Tweek laughs as if he told a joke, and Craig gives a cockeyed half-smile as he waits for the punchline.

"It was terrible, but if I never ended up there, I wouldn't have Avery. It's funny how such great things can come out of not so great places."

Craig nods in understanding, then rests his gaze on the child before them. Somehow in the last five seconds, Ave went from a daring speedster to a lazy potato. He's sitting in the driveway, moving pieces of gravel around with the tip of his finger. His bike lays only feet from him, but his eyes are too droopy to drive anymore.

"You ready to go in, Ave?" Tweek calls. "Looks like you need sleepy time."

"No," the child says stubbornly. "I'm not tired. My racer just broke down! I gotta build it better."

"Oh, okay then. You build it better, bud."

Tweek's become such a selfless and loving father. Pride bubbles in Craig's chest at the thought of all Tweek grew up to be. And something else. There's another feeling, too, as the sun finally sets. Fireflies make themselves known as they ignite around them like stars. A few rest on Avery's dinosaur pajama top, and Tweek watches as the shadowy forest flickers with their lights.

This feeling. This painfully bittersweet twinge in Craig's ribs. He burns to take Tweek by the hand. To hold him close and run through the woods until the twinkling bugs look like shooting stars. Like they did when they were children.

But they aren't children anymore.

Tweek's hand remains empty atop his knee, and Craig's flaming thoughts burn on.

"Is there, um… anything else you want to ask about?" Tweek mutters.

Craig snaps out of his daydream, then proceeds to panic.

"But it's your turn to ask for a story."

"Well… it seemed like you had a lot of things you wanted to know, so… I'm all ears."

Damn it, man! It's Craig's turn to fork up something! He can't ask for a story without first giving one, it's the sacred rule of story time! Besides, he was gonna use his turn to stall while he eloquently planned out their entire next hour of dialogue.

How else is he supposed to prepare for conversation scenarios that aren't going to happen? Tweek will regret this when he drops the 'I actually lost communication with you because I'm an alien and reception is shitty in space' bombshell and Craig won't have a pre-prepared response.

Yet, here Craig sits; moaning out confused garble as he tries to make sense of this- this turn skipper.

"Well?" Tweek persists with raised brows. He's humored seeing Craig red faced. "Tonight is the night of answers, right? I at least owe you this much."

Tweek is the destroyer of all things logical and sensible, but Craig is curious. He just hopes his questions come out of his mouth coherent.

"Well, um, er… I guess it's fair if we start with why you dumped me?" he gathers the courage to suggest. "I don't mean as a boyfriend, but in general. You never said why. I was worried you were mad, since it's my fault you got taken away-"

"It isn't your fault," Tweek answers suddenly. So suddenly, it even takes him by surprise. "You were protecting me. You know that. I was never mad because of what you did, just because you lied to me."

"I had to."

"I know."

"Then why?"

Serious talk stops when Avery wheels his bike up to the porch, then lands head-first into his father's lap.

"Sleepy time?" Tweek asks as he combes his fingers through the boy's hair.

"Mmh, sweepy time," Avery begrudgingly agrees.

He and Craig have hardly talked, though. He'd hate to send Craig home with so many things left to be said. Clyde's earlier suggestion rings in Tweek's ears. He doesn't want to lay Avery down alone, but there isn't much choice.

Clyde said he'd watch him. These aren't conversations Avery should be present for, anyway.

"How about we put Avery to bed," Tweek suggests, "then we can pick this back up."

Craig agrees, then the wooden steps creak as he shifts his weight to stand. "Actually, how does a walk sound? If you want to, I mean."

A walk? In the middle of the night? Tweek swaddles Avery a little tighter against his chest as he thinks it over. Even laying Avery down for bed without him seemed like a lot. What if he wakes up and Tweek's gone?

Craig must sense Tweek's anxiousness, because he gently adds: "We can just walk to the gas station and back. We wouldn't be long."

"Well," Tweek nibbles on his lip a moment, and his half-lidded eyes scan the darkening trees as if for direction, "it's a breezy, summer night. So sounds... peaceful. I'd, um. I'd like to."

With Avery held securely against his chest, Tweek rises from his seat. His son stirs with a startled squeak, then clutches to his father's T-shirt.

"S'alright," Tweek cooes. "Daddy's gotcha. We're going to bed."

Craig opens the front door for them, then follows the tiny father and even tinier son through Clyde's livingroom. He and Bebe are sitting on the couch in front of the television. The girls have long since been put to bed, so they're enjoying their peace and quiet.

"What are you guys up to?" Bebe ponders.

"We, um, wanna go on a walk. I'm gonna lay Ave down, if you'll watch him," Tweek says.

"Oh, of course. Want me to come up with you?"

"No. Hopefully he'll stay asleep. Just check on him, if you would."

"Sure, no problem."

They walk past the reclined couple, along with more stereotypical farmhouse decorations, on their way to the stairs.

Once at the top, they come to Tweek's bedroom door. Craig holds it open like a gentlemen. Tweek gives a joking half-curtsey before wafting into the darkened room with his son in his arms.

Craig watches from the door frame as Tweek lays his child to bed. Tweek pulls a faded quilt up to Avery's chin, and gives him a warm kiss on the head. In the dimly lit room, Craig overhears a hushed, sleepy conversation between parent and child.

"Did you have fun today?" Tweek asks in a tired sounding whisper. His voice echoes dreamily amongst scattered toys and finger paintings. It almost makes Craig want to yawn.

"Yeah," Avery mumbles with scrunched eyelids. "Cwaig's car is pretty. Will- can I ride it?"

The 'R's he tries to pronounce come out as slurred 'W's. His speech is even less decipherable when he's sleepy.

"I'm sure Craig will let you ride in it sometime," Tweek replies, humored. "It really does look like Red Racer, doesn't it?"

"It does! Daddy, what if- if he races it. Do you think he does?"

"Well, he used to try to race his dad's truck when we were younger. I'm sure he's at least raced his sports car a few times."

"Ooooooh- he made his car, just like Racer did. What- what if Cwaig is Red Racer."

Craig's cheeks get a little flush when the child notices him lingering in the doorway. Avery greets his tall silhouette with a wide, sleepy smile, as if promising he won't expose Craig's secret identity.

Craig can't remember the last time he smiled so much.

"Love you, Ave," Tweek says before placing another kiss in his son's hair. "Daddy's gonna go on a walk, but I'll be right back. Aunt Bebe and Uncle Clyde are right downstairs if you need them. I'll be home before you know it."

Avery is so tired by now he doesn't understand. He just pats his father's stubbled jaw and then rolls into the quilt.

"Love you, too, Daddy."

Tweek doesn't move for a while. He holds Avery's hand and patiently waits for the boy's chest to rise and fall with sleep. Hopefully he stays this way until Tweek gets back. Without a sound, he stands from the bed and rejoins Craig in the doorframe. Leaving the door cracked and the hallway light on, the pair quietly tiptoe down the staircase.

Leaving Avery alone at bedtime feels like a betrayal, but it gets easier when he catches a good look at Craig's idiotic grin. It'd been so long since he last saw it. He realizes, now, how much that dumb smile was missed.

"So, we're headed to the gas station?" Tweek ponders. His voice is hushed, but this time it's to keep from interrupting Clyde and Bebe's television time. Craig zips his hoodie up to his chin when they reach the bottom of the stairs, then gives a jerky nod.

"It'll be easier for us to talk there. There's hardly anyone around this late at night."

There it is again, that bear gnawing feeling in Tweek's insides. He can only imagine how many different ways this night can end, and he isn't sure he's ready for any of them.


	6. Seven-Eleven

Craig watches Tweek hug himself as they walk side by side down the gravel driveway. The same anxiousness that's rattling Craig's bones resides in Tweek, too. Craig can tell by how he's chewing his lip. The subtle gesture gives him the bleeding urge to ask what Tweek's thinking about. To ask if he's pondering how deeply he missed Craig's presence, or if he's festering in how uncomfortable it is that they're walking so close.

He doesn't, though.

He'd rather just assume that Tweek's as enamored with Craig as Craig is with him.

They wander a long stretch of dark road that's walled in by pillar like trees. The light of Craig's cellphone illuminates their trunks, but the night veils anything lurking behind them. Twigs snap and leaves rustle, and Craig's heart beats funny when Tweek presses against his side.

"It's alright," Craig chimes with a sideways grin. "No one's seen a chupacabra around here for at least a month. It's probably just a mountain lion."

His shoulders quake with laughter when Tweek socks him in the arm.

"Well then it's a good thing I can outrun you, ya dick!" Tweek fumes. Despite his threat to feed Craig to a wild animal, he stays incredibly close to his side. Craig almost makes a joke about the intimate contact, but stops himself. This is the closest they've been in years, he realizes, and suddenly his skin is on fire.

Tweek gnaws on his bottom lip and breathes in the warm smell of pine in the air.

"So…" he grumbles as he rubs warmth into his arms. "I bet you're still waiting to hear about why I stopped talking to you."

Craig doesn't say anything in fear of his voice cracking. He simply nods instead. He can't see Tweek's expression, but he can still hear his hands rubbing against the skin on his arms.

"There is no one reason or easy answer," Tweek admits. "It's complicated and stupid."

There's a long silence between them. The road is filled with the hum of chirping crickets, rustling leaves in the breeze, and their soles scraping on asphalt. Maybe Tweek's waiting for him to say it's okay. That no matter the reason, he wasn't hurt by what Tweek did. But he couldn't say that truthfully, so he said nothing at all.

Tweek's clearing throat echoes and he shoves his hands in his pockets.

"At first it was because of how hard it was. It sounds stupid now, but I dumped you so you could find someone you could actually be with. I didn't think we'd ever be together again, being two thousand miles away, but you know that part," Tweek shrugs, then kicks a pebble out of their path. "But at the same time you'd always been my boyfriend. I couldn't handle the idea of you going on without me, and I thought it'd be selfish to tell you so."

"So it was easier to not say anything?" Craig ponders nearly in a whisper. He doesn't mean to sound as hurt as he does, but some emotions are too heavy to make light of.

"Every option I had felt selfish. I didn't know what else to do." Tweek's thumbs rub together. His eyes lower to his feet in shame, though he's still walking so close their shoulders are pressed together. "After all we went through together, after all you did for me, I shouldn't have treated you so cold. I was terrified to see you again because I was sure you'd hate me, but instead you were so excited. And not only have you been looking out for me, but for my son, too."

Tweek's breath catches in his throat, and the sincerity in his words spill over into the water glinting in his eyes. He isn't crying. Not yet.

"You don't have to explain," Craig interrupts. "I know why you stopped talking to me."

Tweek's eyes dart up at his companion. They're wide, worried, and still watery. With raised brows and feigned seriousness, Craig continues.

"You lost touch because you had to go back to your home planet, and calling collect is a fortune from Neptune." Craig gives Tweek a gentle pat on the back. "I forgive you."

Tweek blinks as his brain registers what Craig just said, and then a faint smile creeps onto his lips.

"Oh, no, you saw right through me," Tweek says through wet laughter. He can't stop smiling as he wipes his eyes. That's how Craig knows he said just the right thing.

"I always knew you were hiding antenna under that wild hair of yours."

It's been over half a decade since Craig laughed like he is right now. They're walking to the gas station in the middle of the night and exchanging stupid banter like they're sixteen again. And, for a moment, Craig thinks he can still hear their teenage laughter echoing through the trees.

The pair watch the glowing, neon sign of the gas station get closer and closer through the trees. They follow it and soon they're reunited with the most familiar setting of their youth. The teenage temple of coveted snacks at convenient prices; the South Park 7-Eleven. The buzzing of light poles greet them when their sneakers hit the sidewalk, and the cool air of the summer night almost overwhelms Craig. Tweek stops short of the door to stare past it's glass panes. Colorful rows of brightly lit snack aisles await them, but he's frozen.

"What's the matter?" Craig asks.

"Nothing, nothing. I just… hah. I convinced myself I'd never see this place again. Now here I am, with you nonetheless, kinda knocks the wind out of me just standing here," Tweek gnaws on his lip again. If he doesn't get a grip on himself Craig's worried he'll chew it off. "That's probably weird."

Tweek tears his eyes away from the storefront to look up at Craig. When their gazes align, Craig is sure he's dreaming. The yellow glow pours out of the windows and illuminate Tweek's face. In this light he doesn't look a day over sixteen.

"No, it's not weird," is all Craig can manage.

Tweek's unsure grin tugs upwards at the corners, then his eyes shy down to his sneakers.

"I wonder how many nights we even spent here, before I left," Tweek ponders. His voice is quiet, as if the subject of before is too scandalous to speak of out loud. "Do you… remember the last time we were here?"

The question hits Craig hard. Of course he remembers, but it's the worst memory he made in that gas station. He'd much rather relive happier times. Like when he propped Tweek up on the sink in the men's bathroom and-

Oh. Maybe that's not the first one he should have chose.

Tweek gives him an expecting look.

The peaks of Craig's shoulders raise until the hood of his jacket brushes his flushing cheeks, then he nods.

"I do," Craig says simply. He clears his throat and tugs on one of his hat tassels. "It was, um, our last night together. You asked me to bring you because you wanted your favorite cookie one last time. The strawberry star kind, but they didn't have any more."

"I don't think I ever cried over anything in my life as hard as I did over that damn cookie," Tweek interjects. He laughs to himself, and Craig chuckles too, as if it was really just the cookie he cried about. When their laughter ends, a heavy feeling settles in the chill air.

The only way Craig can offer comfort is to hesitantly place his hand on Tweek's shoulder.

"Let's go in. I'll buy you one."

Before Tweek can even agree, Craig swings open the door. A bell chimes over his head, and the delicious smell of junk food wafts past him.

Every day since Tweek's leaving, Craig's been in this gas station. It felt so melancholy to wander in alone for morning coffee. But this time doesn't feel melancholy at all. He holds the door, and a timid creature of a man inches in. He tugs at his T-shirt in his typical nervous fashion, but his drooping eyes widen.

The South Park 7-eleven is surely no different than any other gas station, but Tweek wonders behind Craig as if he's never seen one before. Linoleum squeaks below them as they navigate aisles of household supplies, and Tweek gawks as if they're displays in a gallery.

"Nothing's changed," he comments as they exit the boxed goods aisle.

"They sell hamburgers in the hot foods section now, that's new," Craig replies as he stops before a large glass case. Tweek's interest is peaked by the shelves of familiar confections. He presses his finger against the glass when he finds a doughnut sprinkled with bacon.

"That was Clyde's favorite!" He exclaims as if proud of himself for remembering.

"Still is," Craig replies. He lifts his finger to point, too. The faint yellow glow of the pastry cabinet glistens on the frosting of a cookie. It's shaped like a star, albeit a fat one.

"And there's your favorite."

Tweek gasps and tenses from his head to his toes. It looks as if he'll explode from the mere sight of the confection, and Craig can't help but think of how cute he looks with his cheeks all puffed out in excitement.

Craig buys him said cookie to make up for the one that got away six years prior, a coke for himself, and soon they were sitting across from each other in a booth by the window. There was silence at first, but Craig was starting to grow tired of the quietness that usually settled around them. 

"So, you're into girls now, are you?" Craig asks with his straw between his teeth. "Some things do change."

Tweek shoots a wide-eyed look his way, and then they both exchange muffled laughter as if they're swapping secrets at a slumber party.

"Um, yeah, I guess. After a couple college parties, I realized girls were nice to look at, too."

Tweek brakes off a point of his star cookie and takes a savoring bite of the confection. It looks sweet and chewy. The creamy frosting leaves stickiness on his lips, and Craig just can't help but think nasty thoughts about them. Six years apart, and he's still insatiable when it comes to Tweek.

"What about you?" His companion asks before licking the pink frosting from his lips. "You still only like dudes?"

"Yeah," Craig answers, and is embarrassed to realize it's the most confident declaration he's made in Tweek's presence. "I still haven't found anything straight about me. Though, I'm curious, if you don't mind. How'd you even realize you liked girls? Did you just see one you thought was hot and that sealed the deal?"

Tweek takes a moment of thoughtful pause by staring at the darkened gas pumps out the window. He swallows another mouthful of sugar cookie, and then takes a deep breath.

"I always knew some part of me liked girls. I'd had mini crushes on Bebe since I was like- eight or something. I guess my sexuality just didn't matter to me then, whether I was bi or gay or whatever, cause all that mattered to me was that I was with you."

Their eyes meet, and Tweek offers a small smile before continuing. "But once I left, I never had feelings or thoughts about guys. It was always women I fantasized about."

"So, do you think your gayness as kids was just a phase, or are dudes still on the menu?" Craig dares to ponder out loud.

"Of course, I don't think that," Tweek assures with faint laughter. "I might date a dude again- I mean, if I was ready for a relationship and I met one who just wowed me, you know? I guess gender just doesn't matter if a connection is there."

It feels like a bag of cinderblocks lifting off Craig's chest the next time he takes a breath. It's good to know, at least, the relationship they had still meant something to Tweek.

"So, you know after telling me all that you've gotta let me in on the story of Avery's mom," Craig says. "I imagine it's a touchy subject-"

"No, no. Well, I mean, yes. It's touchy, but I'll tell you. It's the least I can do for how good you've been to me and Ave," Tweek says. He's staring back out the window, though, as if looking Craig in the eyes would give him cold feet. "I met her in college. She was studying to be a doctor. Despite how straight-laced that sounds she was a lot of fun. I think that's what attracted me to her, she was good at chilling me out."

"A match made in heaven," Craig interjects as he swirls his coke with his straw.

"It seemed to be, at first. We were only together for a few months, but she was the only real connection I made there. I was really attached to her. Maybe unhealthily so, but for the first time in a long time I felt like things were going okay in the romance department. Well, until Avery came along, anyway."

Craig's booth creaks as he presses his elbows into the table to lean in. Craig's interest is peaked, and Tweek gives him a lopsided grin.

"Go on," Craig coaxes, so Tweek licks his lips.

"Her parents were really strict on her. A very Christian, goody-goody, pillar of the community type of people. They were paying her way through college. God knows they knew nothing of the ex-drug dealing boyfriend she met via an intended one night stand at a party. Just imagine how things went about six months later when I got her pregnant."

"Wow, Tweek. You were the bad boy who knocked up a preacher's daughter?"

"Her dad actually was a preacher so yes, I was that bad boy."

Craig almost snorts coke out of his nose as movies play in his head of anxious, sputtering Tweek pulling up to this girl's house on a motorcycle. He tries to revve the engine, but the noodle-like tassels on his leather jacket get caught in the handle. The girl peers out her window to the sound of terrified screeches of /Oh god! Too much pressure! Only to witness Tweek's demise as the motorcycle whirls off into the sunset like some Ferris wheel of death, Tweek eating asphalt close behind it.

"I know it's hard to imagine," Tweek tacks on.

"Oh no, my imagination works just fine."

Tweek crosses his arms as if it'll make him look more intimidating, like a guy who almost destroyed a good Christian family with his penis would look intimidating, but he just does not fit the bill.

"Anyways, as I was saying," Tweek huffs in irritation as he digs his fingers into his cookie and brakes it into pieces, "If her folks found out about it, they would have cut off all her college funds and disowned her for throwing away her precious virginity."

"And that didn't happen?" Craig interrupts, still leaning forward.

Tweek shakes his head, and then takes a deep breath. "She kept it all a secret, somehow. Well, I guess it helped that the baby was born two months too early. She signed her rights away that day, and I went the next day to do the same."

Tweek nibbles on his lip and plays with the pieces of his mutilated cookie star.

"I, um... haven't told anyone what I'm about to tell you. Of course, they know watered down versions, but it's been so hard. I need someone to know what I've been going through lately. I think, out of everyone, this will be easiest to say to you."

Craig is taken aback by Tweek's confession. Him? He wants Craig to be the one he confides in? Out of everyone in the world he could sit down and break open for, Tweek wants it to be him.

Craig only nods, and then waits for whatever Tweek needs to say.

"Okay," Tweek says before gulping down another deep breath. "When I came the next day, the doctors introduced me to him, to Avery. I promised Molly I'd give him away and we'd never talk about it again."

"Molly? That's his mother's name?"

"Yes. Molly. I swore to her I'd leave him there..." Tweek's hands abandon his crumbled cookie to run up and down his thighs. This is a subject he's never spoken about. From the wetness in his voice to the ever-apparent twitching of his lips, Craig can tell.

"But the doctors asked if I wanted to see him. I realized that this was my son they were talking about. This was a person that I made. I couldn't say no, so they brought me to this room. It was small, and the walls were covered in these cartoon giraffes."

Tweek's eyes sweep over the grimy gas station walls as if he can still see those yellow creatures dancing amongst the drywall. He smiles to himself at the memory, and Craig frowns.

"When they introduced us, he was in a plastic box. Like one of those bubble kids. I couldn't even bring my phone in the room because they were scared the germs would hurt him. I could have fit him in the palms of my hands, Craig. He was so small and sick.

"It didn't seem fair. He was just a baby, hardly a day old, and he was dying in a room filled with strangers. The only family he had in the world couldn't wait to be rid of him. He- he was so small and- I didn't understand how Molly could look at him like she did. How she couldn't be the least bit proud of him for how hard he was fighting," there they were, the tears. They brimmed in Tweek's eyes until they spilled over. "When they let me put my hand in his box he wrapped his fingers around my thumb, and I thought, 'oh no, I love him.'"

Craig never was skilled with words. Faced with such an emotional retelling, what little grasp he did have on the English language slipped through his fingers. Instead, he did what he did best and remained silent.

"It's the most conflicting feeling," Tweek says. The tissue dispenser between them let's out a metallic click as Tweek yanks out a sheet and rubs his nose with it. "I feel sick with myself to ever think I wanted to just leave him there, and other times I feel sick with myself for keeping him."

"Why?" is all Craig can manage.

Tweek returns to looking at anything other than the man across from him. He's too ashamed with the nature of their conversation, Craig assumes.

"Because it was selfish. His life has been nothing but poverty, he'll never get to have the childhood I want for him. The one he deserves."

When Tweek crumbles his cookie as much at one can crumble, starts is peeling the skin around his fingernails instead. Craig reaches out and lays his hand on Tweek's to still the destructive fidgeting. Tweek freezes up at the unexpected contact, but allows Craig's hand to rest atop his own.

"You don't have anything to be ashamed of," Craig assures him. Tweek shies away from Craig's intense gaze, not able to bear the weight of it. "Take it from a kid who was adopted. Everyone goes through hardships, no matter much money they have. There's no one in this world who could love that boy the way you do. That's what matters."

Tweek swallows hard and nods to let him know he's listening.

"I know you've been doing this on your own all this time, but you don't have to anymore. You're home now, you know. And, well… if Avery turns out to be half the man you are, I'd say you did a damn fine job."

Tweek's face scrunches up and turns a faint pink color as he listens to what Craig has to say. He takes the kind hand that reached out to him in both of his and gives it a tight squeeze. Craig can't keep his heart from breaking when Tweek clings to his fingers and lets out a wet and unsteady sigh.

"Thank you," Tweek says as he sucks in a shaky breath.

An out of place sound disrupts their moment, however. A muffled roar echoes through the sky above them. It startles Tweek, and he yanks his hands away from Craig in fear of the noise.

"Was that thunder?" He asks, panicked.

"Sounds like it, but don't worry. Little rain never hurt anyone," Craig offers.

"No, no, you don't understand. Avery- I'm his thunder buddy! He's terrified of it. I-I have to get back."

Tweek jumps out of his seat, abandoning his destroyed cookie at the table as he scrambles for the door. Craig runs after him, in shock from all the sudden movement.

"Hold on, hold on," he shouts, which manages to capture Tweek's short attention span.

Craig slips his thick hoodie off his shoulders and tosses it over Tweek. He squeaks when it hits him in the face, then struggles to swim his way out of the ocean of cloth.

"What?" Tweek questions as he yanks the jacket off his head and holds it up to see. It's huge, at least compared to Tweek's small stature. The cloth is a relaxing shade of blue, and it's lined with soft, white faux fur. "What's this for?"

"It's about to rain, dingleberry. If you get sick, Avery will, too."

"Oh," Tweek mutters. He holds the jacket for a few moments as if he's entranced with it. "Thank you."

Craig smiles. "Now let's get you home before he wakes up."


	7. Short, Sweet, and to the Point

Water splashes around their feet as they run back to Bebe's house. It started as frantic scrambling, but quickly turned into a race when Craig gave Tweek a playful shove and launched past him. His long legs give him an unfair advantage, but Tweek doesn't mind. He knows Craig won't leave him behind in the darkness and rain. Still, when he catches up, his fingers clutch to the back of Craig's soaked button-up shirt to slow him down.

"Hold your horses, Red Racer!" Tweek demands through laugher. "I can't keep up!"

Tweek slams into Craig's back when he jerks to a stop and kneels.

"Jump on!" he says with his arms back and palms open.

"You aren't carrying me! I have my own legs!" Tweek screams over the booming storm.

"But they're short and stubby!"

"Are not!"

Craig looks back and wiggles his fingers. "I used to carry you everywhere when we were kids!"

Tweek tightens Craig's hood around his face to hide his grin, then takes a running jump. His arms around Craig's shoulders, Craig's arms under his knees, he's lifted from the wet asphalt. Many years ago he spent a lot of his time where he is right now, clutching to Craig's back.

His ride jerks into a full sprint, and Tweek screams with a tightened grip.

"Don't drop me!" he pleads. The fear of being flung into a thorn bush is real, but his laugher in unquenchable.

"I'd never!" Craig says, and Tweek believes him.

By the time they reach the top of the hill, the angry rainstorm as settled a bit. The thunder sounds more and more distant, and the rain that pelted them falls softly with apology. Tweek bites his lip to conceal a frown when they reach the house. He's relieved to be where his son is, but there's also a childish part of him that doesn't want to be put down.

"Choo, choo, last stop, Bebe's house," Craig says. Wood creaks beneath their weight as he steps up onto the porch. Rather than bend down to let his passenger off, Craig rolls onto the floor. Tweek's forced to let go but doesn't bother getting up. He lays in the chilly night, just staring at the roof of the porch as Craig settles beside him.

The house is completely silent. No creaking floorboards, no late night T.V. show, and, most importantly, no crying child.

"Thanks for the lift," he sighs.

"Anytime."

Tweek tips his head towards his long lost friend and takes in his soaked features. The steady song of rain above them is more like a welcomed friend than a reason to pack it up and go inside, and they're bathing in the comfort of Bebe's cheap, yellow porch light. Perhaps it's a ridiculous notion, but there's something almost romantic about this moment.

Tweek's grin faulters when he realizes Craig's eyes are fixated on him.

"What's wrong?" Tweek asks. His head droops to the side to look at Craig. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

A breath that resembles laughter bubbles out of Craig's chest, then he dares to bridge the gap between them with his hand. Tweek freezes and his eyes gape when Craig's thick fingers rest in his damp hair. His heart beats fast and he holds his breath. Suddenly, he's overwhelmed by the way it feels to be caressed. He closes his eyes and lets out a small and contented sigh, enjoying the feeling of Craig's fingers in his hair. At least until he hears a crunch against his ear.

Craig plucks something from Tweek's light hair and presents him with it.

A leaf. Craig is picking leaves from his hair.

"Prolly fell in the storm," he says, laughing.

So much for romantic.

Tweek's face tinges red, and his hands shoot up to feel for more foliage. Words can't express his embarrassment as Craig continues to stare with a widening grin on his face. Tweek resists the urge to hide in the folds of Craig's enormous jacket.

"You're cute," Craig confesses quietly, as if he isn't sure he should say it despite the urge to.

Perhaps its the rain in his clothes and the cool summer breeze, but a shiver trails up Tweek's spine. Even in the ugly yellow glow of Bebe's porch light, Craig is beautiful. Tweek sinks his teeth into his bottom lip in consideration.

"Can... I admit something?" Tweek asks, eyes half lidded with uncertainty.

Craig nods, and Tweek sucks in a steady breath.

"I know all we've done is walk to the gas station, but this has been the best night I've had in a while," Tweek smiles and idly plays with his fingers. "Thank you. For coming to see me."

"Thank you for talking with me," Craig says. He rolls onto his side to get a little closer. So close, in fact, Tweek can feel the warmth of his breath on his forehead.

"I'm so glad you came home."

Tweek doesn't reply, only smiles. The warmth he feels while laying soaked to the bone is beyond anything he'd felt before. How could Craig still be the same goofy, charming person he was six years prior? It's as if he was immune to the affects of time, forever blessed with the heart of a teenager.

How could Tweek ever have hurt this man?

"Does it feel weird for you?" Tweek dares to ask out loud. "There's a lot of tense history here, all we'd ever been before was, well... boyfriends."

"No," Craig says. "A lot happened between then and now. It feels kind of like I'm getting to know you all over again, and I like what I've seen."

Tweek, who had once been so sure of his feelings, is questioning himself. He never felt bashful until he was reunited with Craig. Now all his expressions seem to consist of half-lidded smiles and discreet lip bites.

"How about you? Is it weird for you, since all I've ever been was your boyfriend?" Craig asks.

"A little, honestly," Tweek admits. "I mean, not a  _bad_  kind of weird. It's harder now that we're like- reconnecting and everything."

"It's hard  _not_  to be my boyfriend?" Craig asks, laughing, and Tweek's cheeks tingle with the realization that yes, it is. Tweek looks away with knit brows and a sinking feeling in his stomach but doesn't reply.

"You know," Craig begins, his voice soft, "It's hard for me, too."

Silence.

"If you want, maybe we could-," Craig's fingers have returned to his hat tassels. They roll between his fingers in thought. "I don't know, have dinner or something?"

"Are you… asking me out? Like on a date?" Tweek sputters.

Craig shrugs and he's got an awkward, almost worried, smile tugging at his lips.

"Only if you say yes."

Tweek doesn't say yes, but he doesn't say no, either. He taps his heal against the porch for a while, and Craig is holding his breath.

"Things are even harder than they were before, with Avery... I haven't been with anyone his whole life. What if I fuck up somehow?"

The question takes Craig completely off guard. So much so, they sit in painful silence as he scrambles for a suitable answer.

"You know, since the day you left something was always missing." He looks at Tweek, who's gnawing on his lip. "These last couple weeks have been like coming out of a fog. If this is something you want, but you're not sure or ready, I'll wait."

Again, tears nearly prick Tweek's eyes. He can't recall the last time such gently spoken words were offered to him.

"You've already been waiting six years, haven't you?"

Craig lets out a long breath as if he'd held it since their last kiss.

"You got me."

Tweek rolls onto his side, and then he places a trembling hand in Craig's open palm. It's like fire flicking his fingers as Craig's big hand squeezes them.

"This is something that's gonna take time," Tweek says. "But dinner sounds like a good first baby step."

The stupid grin on Craig's face brings back those damn butterflies, but this time Tweek doesn't mind.

"I gotta work tomorrow, so I should probably head home," Craig mutters. He says he must leave, but how hard he's embracing Tweek's fingers say he doesn't want to go.

"It's alright, I'll see you soon."

"I'll call you."

Tweek jerks on the zipper of Craig's jacket in a sorry attempt to return the garment, but Craig only shakes his head and mutters, "Keep it."

God, if Tweek gets anymore knots in his stomach he's gonna need a doctor.

"Okay," he blurts with eyes wide-rimmed and his cheeks still hot.

Craig hops off the porch and back into the pouring rain, and Tweek goes inside to check on Avery. Their hearts, however, are still beating on the wooden planks of Bebe's porch.


	8. Requiem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Scarlettshazam for beta reading this chapter for me! It helped a lot!
> 
> Tonight's lullaby: The Irrepressibles - In This Shirt

It's been two days since Clyde's welcome home party, but Tweek's mind is still there.

He burned Avery's dinner last night because he was so consumed by his thoughts. This, of course, sent him into a spiraling existential crisis that took Clyde and Bebe three hours to pull him out of, as if every parent hadn't burnt a meal a time or two. Maybe they could have helped more if he told them that the charred remains of Avery's hamburger weren't the only cause of his turmoil.

It's Craig. Craig and the date Tweek agreed to.

He's been a swirling mix of conflicting emotions since that night. Sometimes his heart flutters with joy, but mostly it pounds in terror. He can't decide if he's worth Craig's time, and he's too proud to admit that to his friends. Because of this, the simple notion of having dinner has turned into a secret.

Perhaps he shouldn't let his heart decide things without first checking with his head, because he's come to a world shattering realization.

The friendship they salvaged from Tweek's wreckage is hanging in the balance and no matter what happens on the date things won't be the same afterwards.

"Ouch!"

He jerks his hand out of the fry station and clutches it with a hiss. There's a long, pink mark where he just carelessly pressed his person against a scorching hot piece of metal.

"Aye, what did I say, Tweek?" a slurred voice barks from behind him. "Don't go burnin' yourself, we need three mediums and a large at the window!"

It takes all Tweek has in his already trembling body not to jerk around and punch his fat-ass boss in his greasy face. He shoots a look back at the assembly station, where Eric is helping catch up the line. They're crammed so close together there's just a couple merciful inches between Tweek and the ass of Cartman's straining slacks.

At the back of the line is a young woman with long, blond hair. Tweek's been looking over his shoulder all morning in vain attempts to pinpoint where he's seen her before. She desperately rips buns out of a plastic sleeve and shoves them into the bun toaster to try and catch up with the ever-mounting orders, so now isn't the best time to ask.

"I'm sorry," she repeats, as if they're in the trenches and she's run out of ammo.

"Deep breaths, Marjie," Cartman replies, "You're keeping us afloat right now."

She'd only been there a couple weeks longer than Tweek and was nearly in tears when she got caught in lunch rush by herself. Honestly, Tweek's surprised Cartman so quickly jumped in to help her.

"I'm almost out of regular patties! Start doubling up trays back there- I shouldn't have to say that!"

Cartman is barking orders left and right, but Tweek seems to be the only one rolling his eyes. All his coworkers quickly answer with "Yes, sir!", no matter how rude Cartman's demands seem. And for good reason. Within ten minutes of Eric's intervention, everyone regroups and bags of food rush out of the kitchen.

Perhaps he deserved it from Tweek, too. Despite his insulting demeanor and the harsh way he carries himself, Eric gave him a chance without question. Almost literally. He only asked like three things during their five-minute interview, and Tweek's still perplexed by his charity.

Tweek's perplexed by alot of things.

Like why Craig would even want him again after all the stupid shit he's done. Cutting him out of his life was one of the kindest things he did, in retrospect. He figures Craig left everything else out as an act of kindess.

A dozen more burns and a thousand cartons of fries later, lunch rush slows into a more relaxed trickle of cars in the drive thru. Thankfully, Eric turns to Tweek and says, "You deserve a lunch, get out of here."

Despite saying something nice, it comes across arrogant. Whatever. Tweek happily peels off his apron and books it for the break room. He dodges bustling coworkers and slips into a tiny room made of painted, white brick behind the kitchen.

He loops his apron on a hanger and turns the combo for his locker. The tiny, square space guards what little valuables he owns. The most valuable, Avery's baby picture, is taped inside the door. His cell phone, as crushed and cracked as it is, is wrapped inside Craig's neatly folded jacket. Tweek's stomach sinks into his shoes. He forgot he wore it this morning.

But he had.

And not for any other reason than it's smell; the comfort of Craig's cologne.

His phone clatters to the floor as he pulls the jacket from his locker. It's blue, the jacket. And the logo for  _TNT Mechanics_  is embroidered on it's breast and back. The cuffs are well worn and stained dark with oil, evidence of the winters it kept Craig warm in the garage. With a sigh, Tweek slips his arms into sleeves that are much too big for him.

All it takes in one deep whiff of that scent, and he's not standing in McDonald's break room anymore. Tweek's back in a tiny red booth in the Dairy Bar. He wore those high-top vans he thought were so cool, but his teeth were still crooked. He just got his braces the week before, but Craig insisted Tweek's smile was still his favorite thing. Tweek never felt bad about them after that.

His cheeks glowed red as he stared at the person across from him in the booth.

And he could smell it. That cologne.

The pocket knife in Craig's hand scratched a sloppy heart in the red, plastic surface of the tabletop between them. It was a tradition. If they considered a place special to them, there's a heart there, somewhere, with their initials engraved in the center.

"I love you," Tweek said, simply because he felt it and he could.

Craig stopped chipping at the table and gave a bashful, sideways grin.

"I love you, too," he said. "I love you, too."

The memory leaves a soft aching when it's gone.

"Oh," he mutters at the realization his phone is on the floor, bearing a brand-new crack across the screen. He scoops it up, and thankfully it still seems functional.

He texts Bebe to check on Avery, who's apparently been cranky all day, as he heads to the lobby for food. All he can afford is a McChicken and a small sprite.

He carries the sad evidence of his financial struggles to the back of the lobby to find somewhere to sulk alone. He pushes open the wooden doors to the weird room Eric interrogated him in a few weeks prior. Sunlight pours in from the wall of windows, which projects soothing patterns across the tile floor. Being away from the crowded kitchen and basking in the warm, saturated colors helps ease Tweek's stomach. He heads for the dining room table that still doesn't belong in a McDonalds when he notices he isn't as alone as he hoped.

Across the room, in the corner furthest from the door, a man sits at one of the small tables beside the windows. He's wearing jeans that are worn and ripped at the knees, and an orange jacket. He doesn't seem to notice Tweek's presence as he stares dreamily out the window; his mind seems as lost as Tweek feels.

"Kenny?" he ponders, and a pair of baby blue eyes gaze at him. A smile creeps onto the man's face, and he leans back in his chair, nodding.

"Hey, there, shorty. I forgot you worked here; look at you in your cute little uniform."

Tweek offers a sheepish smile and nods. "I just started, actually, It's my first day."

Kenny invites Tweek to sit by patting the tabletop with a tattoo-covered hand. There are letters on the knuckles and pictures on the skin, though Tweek can't make out quite what they are.

"Take a seat, keep your old friend some company."

Honestly, bullshitting with Kenny would make for a much better break than sitting alone and drowning his pain in soda. Tweek slides into the seat across from Kenny, which is hot from the summer sun, and unwraps his McChicken. The smell of nicotine lingers in the air. Apparently there are a few old habits Kenny wasn't able to break.

"So, what are you doing hiding back here?" Tweek asks.

"I work at the auto factory across the road. Thought I'd spend my lunch break contemplating my existence over a Big Mac." Kenny stops, seemingly mid-sentence, to squint at Tweek's chest. "Aw, I see you're already getting some tail. Good for you."

"Tail?" Tweek asks with his face twisting. He hasn't 'gotten tail' since he made Avery. Kenny gestures towards the jacket on Tweek's shoulders.

" _TNT Mechanics_. That's Craig's, right? Did ya just roll outta his bed this morning?"

Tweek stares at Kenny, mouth agape like he's going to speak despite his silence. So much for Kenny being a welcome distraction.

"What? No! He came over the other night for Clyde's party. He just- He gave it to me. We didn't sleep together."

"Ah, but you do want to."

"I never said that," Tweek croaks.

Kenny leans forward and rests his elbows on the counter. A small, contemplative chuckle puffs from his lips. "We haven't seen each other in years, but you still make the same face when you're lying."

Tweek jerks to look out the window, as if only seeing half of his face will keep Kenny from reading him so easily. Despite that, he can't help but be flattered that Kenny remembered little things like that. He wasn't exactly a good influence on Tweek considering all the stupid shit they got into together, but the memories are cherished. If one of them was riding down the side of a mountain in a shopping cart there was an equally as high idiot doing the same not far behind. At least when Craig didn't have something to say about it.

"Okay, fine. Craig is... just as attractive as I remember," Tweek chooses his words carefully through a snicker, "I'm surprised you're talking so nonchalant about him, since last I remember you hated his guts."

"Just a bit," Kenny admits, though he smiles. "He was such a fucking goodie-goodie, you know. We could never do anything fun when he was around, 'specially when you guys got all serious and lovey."

"You mean like getting high and playing chicken with cars on the highway?" Tweek asks as if conjuring up one of their dumbest excursions would reiterate why Craig didn't want them doing those things.

"Fuck, yeah," Kenny says, "He showed up and tried to carry you home. You bit him, you remember that? Poor bastard."

"Don't call him a bastard," Tweek scolds lightly, but only because he knows Craig hates being called that more than anything. "But yeah, Kenny. I remember that."

He doesn't, not really. Enough people attested to his mental breakdown, though, that he can't argue about it.

Conversation slows as they lose themselves in their own thoughts.

It was raining that night, though Tweek only remembers because his clothes were wet the next morning. Something was wrong, though he can't say what, and he found comfort in the baggies his parents kept hidden in the back of their coffee shop. He and Kenny disappeared that night. No one heard from them or knew where they were, and, of course, their parents couldn't be bothered to look. It was Craig and Kenny's older brother, Kevin, who stayed out all night trying to find them.

He only knows what he'd been told. Tweek was laying on the side of the highway, Craig said. His body was limp and lifeless, soaked by the rain and caked with mud. The only sign he was breathing was the gibberish he muttered. What Craig didn't tell him, though, was that he fell to the ground and pulled Tweek out of the ditch in tears. That he held his limp body and cried, relieved he was alive despite Tweek biting him in his confusion. Kenny told him that part later, but Tweek can almost remember the sound of Craig's rapid breathing in his ear. The darkness of the sky and the smell of wet earth lingers in some inaccessible part of his memory.

What he can remember clearly is the next morning. He woke up on Craig's bed with a pounding migraine and vomit on his clothes. Craig had dark circles under his eyes from all the sleep he lost over Tweek's stupid mistakes, but he was still loyally sitting on the edge of the bed. That's when Tweek told all his secrets, and Craig promised he'd keep them. Thankfully, he cared more about Tweek than Tweek did. The next day he slinked into Mr. Mackey's office and repeated all the terrible things Tweek confided.

Craig did it because he loved him, he said.

Tweek was in first period math class when they called him up to the principal's office. He left his things at his desk and never saw them again. It wasn't Mr. Mackey or PC Principal awaiting him. It was a group of tall, big men in blue uniforms. Confused and still hazy from the previous night, he cried when they escorted him to a police car. They assured him he wasn't in trouble, but they interrogated him like he was. They sat him in a tiny, windowless room with an older woman who asked him scary and invasive things.

He was still cleaning dried mud out of his hair when the trial started. The woman in the tiny room, the detectives after her, the judge, and the jury; Tweek had to tell them all what he'd whispered in confidence as his father sat nearby, staring. That's what Craig's love did to him. It destroyed his family, threw his father in prison, and exiled him to a life of bitter loneliness Virginia.

He forgave him, of course, and they got to spend one last night together before the inseparable duo was destroyed as everything else had been. Still, Craig's betrayal had been the cause of it all. It wasn't until many years later he really understood why Craig did what he did.

"I could have died," Tweek says. "If he hadn't told someone about what I was going through. About all the shit my parents did to me."

Kenny looks up as if he's forgotten Tweek was sitting across from him. With the long silence they just shared, Tweek isn't surprised.

"Yeah. He ran off to the school counselor and the next thing I knew I was in rehab and you were in Virginia. But, you know, Bebe woulda never let me see my daughter again if I hadn't gone there. For good reason, 'course. I could kiss the dickhead for that reason alone. You wouldn't have gotten away from this shithole and had your boy, either. It worked out for the best, I think."

"He wants to take me on a date," Tweek blurts.

"Oh?"

"I said yes. I don't know if I should have, though. Why does he even wanna go down that road again after all the shit I put him through? After all the terrible things I said and did? I'm not sure if I even deserve it, you know?"

"Uh, yeah. How do you think I felt when Kyle and I first got together?"

Tweek blinks. His lungs sting with realization and his head buzzes. Their lives are near parallels of one another. They had the same miserable childhood, the same pivotal moment of change, a child, and someone they were afraid to hurt again. Kenny's story was just a few chapters ahead of Tweek's, and he desperately wanted to know what was written in them.

"How did you feel? How did Charlotte feel? Surely things between you and Kyle weren't always as easy as they seem now."

Kenny flips open his old phone, which looks in far worse shape than Tweek's, to check the time.

"Actually, I'm late back from my lunch. How about we meet up later? Talk of our crippling self-doubt and the delights of childhood trauma will be easier without a time limit."

"Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, man," Tweek says as Kenny gathers up his tray, along with all the ashes he flicked on it.

"No problem, I'm glad I ran into ya." Kenny stands from the table and heads towards the door, but he stops short beside Tweek. "And, in my experience, if someone tells you deserve more than you think, you should believe them."

Tweek listens to the squeaking of Kenny's steal-toed boots until they fade into silence. He plays with the ragged cuffs of Craig's old jacket until a heavy sign escapes him.

Perhaps Kenny's right.


	9. Crocodile Tears

Tweek's on cloud nine as he sits at his tiny McDonald's table and basks in the summer sunlight. Kenny's words of wisdom return to him the courage he lost. Again, his heart wrestles the wheel away from his head, and he sends a simple text before he goes back to work.

' _I'm Ready_ ,' it reads.

 _':)_ ' is Craig's immediate reply, followed shortly after by ' _Is tonight okay_?'

There's something intoxicating about Craig's little smiley face. It turns Tweek into a stumbling, love drunk mess who's incapable of making his own decisions. This is evident by how quick he vomits his reply, which is riddled with spelling errors even autocorrect doesn't know how to help him with. Somewhere in his snippets of broken sentences he manages to spell 'Yes!' correctly.

' _Awesome. I get off at seven. Meet me at eight on the bridge?'_

The suggestion seems vague, but not to Tweek. Craig's referring to the old, wooden bridge at Stark's Pond. It overlooks the river that pours from the pond through the woods. The patch of grass beneath was always a perfect hang out spot. And, as Tweek recalls, not a bad place to lose his virginity.

His cheeks pink with embarrassment for letting himself linger on such a thought, then he agrees to meet there.

The remainder of his work day is a hazy blur broken up only by his phone's vibration. He fantasizes about what Craig must have planned to bring him out to the bridge of all places. Rushing river water and lightning bugs in the fresh, summer night dance through his imagination.

Long lost memories flood his mind. Some innocent, like when they'd sit on the edge and talk as they chucked rocks into the rippling water. Others were less innocent. Flushed, hot skin glided together in his mind's eye. The caress of Craig's wet tongue was warm against his exposed flesh, which was welcomed in the cold night air. He can still remember how it felt all these years later. Memories like these used to leave a bittersweet taste in his mouth that was hard to swallow. Now, they ignite an old spark in his gut that's blazing out of control.

For the first time since his tragic separation from Avery's mother, Tweek feels for someone. Wants someone. Even if he won't admit it so boldly out loud, it's true.

Oh, shit. Avery! If they meet at eight there's no way Tweek will be back home in time to lay him down for bed. His panicked realization is disrupted by Eric's insufferable voice, barking as always: "Keep your head out of the clouds, Tweek! Those fries aren't gonna make themselves!"

Four 'o clock is Tweek's savior, and he bounds to the break room to shed his apron and gather his things when Cartman dismisses him. He surely can't keep Craig a secret anymore. He has to tell Bebe and Clyde as soon as he gets home, as well as try to figure out how in the world to explain to his four-year-old where he'll be going.

If he can even bare to leave him for the night.

When he finally gets home, wind chimes tap against one another on the front porch. Tweek drinks in the fresh air of the country, which loosens the feeling of grease from his lungs. Ease settles in for a moment, but it's gone as soon as he opens the door. When he steps inside he's welcomed by Avery, who desperately clings to his leg and refuses to let go. It's been a month since Tweek last worked, and Avery seems to've gotten used to always being together. Tweek has, too. He missed Avery just the same.

"How was your day, little racer?" Tweek asks, but his grin wavers with the thought who gave Avery that endearing nickname. No matter what Tweek does, Craig is already a faucet of Avery's life. His model car even stole the title of Favorite Toy from Mr. Rabbit, and Avery often rambles to their friends about Craig's cool cars. How did that happen without Tweek even noticing?

"Aunt Bebe made me a dinosaur sandwich," Avery replies, though it's muffled because of his face being buried in Tweek's leg. "And me and Uncle Clyde watched Red Racer."

"Sounds like a fun day, right?" Tweek coaxes. He's elated with the knowledge that his friends tried their best to make Avery feel at home despite Tweek's absence.

"I guess... but Aunt Bebe's sandwiches aren't as good as yours!" Avery whines, "and Uncle Clyde doesn't sing the Red Racer theme with me."

"He probably just doesn't know the words yet."

"Still," Ave pouts as his tiny arms clutch his father's leg tighter.

Tweek's phone vibrates in his pocket. He knows it's Craig, and guilt settles into his bones like a painful disease. Avery surely won't be happy come eight 'o clock. He bends down to ruffle his son's hair and give him a kiss on the head in apology for his absence. Hopefully, it will help ease the blow later. Avery's whimper turns into a giggle, and he releases his father's leg to bury his nose in Tweek's shoulder instead.

"You smell like fwench fries!" He declares. "Did you bring some for me?"

"No, I didn't bring any. I was making them all day, you goober!" Tweek throws his arms around Avery and lifts him in the air to earn a few more giggles. He throws the boy over his shoulder and spins in circles. Charlotte and Claudia, who were on the couch watching cartoons nearby, have jumped down and swarmed Tweek at the prospect of roughhousing. They easily bring him to his knees with their grabby hands, and he finds himself in an unfair tickle war. That is, at least, until Bebe steps into the living room to investigate all the noise.

"Girls!" she scolds from the kitchen door, "Get off'a him! He just got home from work!"

"Awww," her children groan in their mutual disappointment. They sit victoriously on the body of their fallen foe, Tweek, who's breathing heavily from the battle.

"You guys can roughhouse later, get in here for dinner."

Claudia and Charlotte roll off Tweek and march, shoulders slouched, into the kitchen.

"How about you go, too, Avery," Tweek huffs from the carpet. Avery is laying belly up across Tweek's stomach, looking contented with where he is.

"But, Daddy! I want to watch T.V. with you!"

"We can do that after, go see what Claudia and Charlotte are up to."

Avery makes his signature pouty face, but Tweek stands his ground with the cock of an eyebrow. Avery isn't getting out of helping with chores this time.

"Okay," he huffs as he, too, rolls off Tweek. He tiptoes towards the kitchen but keeps looking back to make sure Daddy is still there.

"Go on, I'll be in there in a minute," Tweek says, still on the floor, as he gestures towards the kitchen. Like a kicked puppy, Avery pouts as he tiptoes into the next room.

Bebe steps down from the stairwell. She looks more washed out than usual in the absence of her makeup, and she's wearing her work uniform, pink cartoon themed scrubs, as a pair of pajamas. The bright cloth bunches up at her joints as she bends down beside her defeated comrade.

"Need a lift?" she asks, holding out a hand for him to take.

The question acts as a time machine; it transports him to the stormy night that caused this confliction. Lightning flashes behind his eyes, and he can almost feel the warmth of Craig's back against his chest. He can almost hear Craig's timid question in his ear. It hurts how much he wants Craig.

With a sigh of frustration, he takes Bebe's hand, and she pulls him off the ground.

"Before you ask, Avery was grouchy, but otherwise he was good all day. Mostly played house with the girls. How was your first day of work?"

"It was... okay," he murmurs.

"What's wrong? Was Eric an ass to you?" She ponders while she leans into the banister. It groans against her back, a sign of its old age.

"No, actually. Eric wasn't as much of an asshole as he could have been." Tweek gnaws on his lip in thought, and he stares attentively at the kitchen door before going on, "I actually, um, have a date. Tonight. With Craig."

She stares at him for a moment, taken back by the suddenness of his news. He's made this confession twice now, but it's not any easier to say. It feels like they're swapping secrets under the jungle gym like they did in elementary school, with the look she's wearing.

"Really?" Her flat palms raise to her face, and she blinks away her pretend shock. "Who would have ever saw that coming!"

"Shh, I don't want the kids to hear you," he gives her a playful shove as color flushes to his face.

In a whisper, he fills her in on their night in the rain and everything that came after.

"Adorable," she comments, "So, what are you wearing? You only own like two shirts and a pair of pants."

Her brown eyes slide across his frame as she contemplates his clothing, but she stops to stare at his chest for a long moment. She thankfully doesn't point out the familiar logo embroidered on his jacket, but she took note. He can tell by the dumb grin on her lips.

Is it weird that he's been wearing Craig's jacket everywhere? Are Kenny and Bebe the only ones to put two and two together, or is the town already talking? What if they get seen out together, alone? He's not ready for anything more than dinner, and he surely won't be able to handle their business becoming a spectacle. In a tiny town like South Park, however, some things are unavoidable.

"I don't know," he croaks with unease twisting his lips, "maybe just jeans and my green sweater? If I even go."

"Excuse me? Of course, you're going! Do you know how long I've waited for you to find somebody since the whole Molly fiasco? Craig's perfect!"

"Perfect?" he repeats, though his mouth goes dry at the word.

"Of course! He loves you to death and cares about Avery. Not to mention he's got a great job and a house of his own," She elbows him with a mischievous smile, "That's more than I could say for Clyde when we first got together."

Tweek mulls that over as he leans alongside her against the banister. She's right, as usual. While Tweek was scraping money out of the bottom of his tip jar for diapers and formula, Craig was working his way through trade school. He's got everything to offer, from financial stability to a huge heart. All Tweek has is depression and a bankruptcy statement.

Craig probably reached his desirable status because Tweek hasn't been around to rub his dirty hands on him in a while.

But, oh, God, does he want to.

"Well… what about Avery? I can't just leave him alone to go fuck around with my ex-boyfriend. Ave has a lot of anxiety at night if I'm not there and- I just don't know what to do. I wanna go see him, but I also don't want to leave my kid again."

"Avery's had you practically every waking moment of his life," she reasons, though, in retrospect, that isn't very long. "Even if he throws a fit, its nothing we can't handle. Go have fun! I don't mind babysitting, you know."

Is it really that easy, he wonders, to walk out the door tonight and not look back? Tweek can hardly handle the sound of Avery crying, let alone if the boy's clinging to his leg and screaming his name. Bebe's parenting approach has always been more of a tough-love kind of affair. It's done well with her rambunctious girls who often use crying as a tactic to get what they want. However, Tweek isn't Bebe, and Avery isn't her girls. He can scold when Avery needs it, but he could never just walk away while he's upset; he's too afraid of Avery forgetting his father loves him.

"C'mon, let's eat dinner than I'll help you get spiffy," she ruffles his blond hair with a giggle, then disappears through the kitchen door.

The next several hours are a mix of flush daydreams and panicked terror. Babe drags him upstairs to shift through Clyde's clothes. Tweek keeps picking sweaters, but she forces him into a white tank top and a red flannel. Clyde's pants are all too big, thanks to his taco binges, so she returns with a pair of black skinnies Token abandoned there several years prior. Admittedly, Tweek looks better than he has in a while. His hair's all jelled back and his clothes actually flatter him.

He hopes Craig thinks so, too.

The rest of his time at home is spent with Avery. The boy seems okay with his father's arrangement while they're using the patterns in the carpet as drag strips, but his complacent attitude will go right out the door when Tweek does. At least they're getting a little quality time before it all goes to hell. Eight 'o clock, however, is quickly approaching.

Half an hour left.

Twenty minutes.

Ten.

Clyde sits on the couch behind their pretend racetrack. He's reclined in his lazy boy wearing old, pizza themed pajamas that Tweek is sure he first noticed at a sleepover when they were teenagers. Claudia lays on his side in a Barbie themed nightgown, giggling at something on the Television.

Tweek wouldn't have taken note of this if Clyde hadn't loudly cleared his throat. Tweek tips his head, and Clyde gestures towards the clock on the wall.

Five minutes.

If he doesn't leave now Craig will be standing on the bridge alone.

He stands from the carpet, and Avery stops rolling his car. The boy stares up at him with wide-rimmed and expecting eyes. They look just like Tweek's. His heart is already rattled.

"It's eight, bud. I'm gonna be late if I don't go now," he explains as he bends down.

"But you just got home!" Avery complains through his signature slurred speech, "and we didn't finish the race!"

Tweek manages a half smile, and then pulls tiny Avery in for a tight embrace before saying, "We'll finish in the morning, okay?"

"But where are you going? Why can't I come, too? I promise I'll be good," Avery hiccups, and Tweek gives him a forehead kiss.

"I'm going out to do a few grownup things. Just for tonight. When you wake up in the morning I'll be there, just like always."

"But- Daddy! You can't! Who will check for your monsters?!"

Clyde and Bebe are watching from their upholstery thrones. Tweek can feel the stares as he tries to diffuse the bomb he just lit, but he doesn't know how. Whenever Avery begged him to stay before, he did. He's always been the knight to Avery's prince; ever loyal and tentative. With the way the boy's eyes are welling up he feels like he's failed.

"I-" he mutters, but chokes on his words before they come out.

A pair of hands slide under Avery's armpits and gently lift him away from Tweek. It's Clyde. He's trying to be helpful by distracting Avery, but the boy's whimpers turn into sobs at having been separated. He reaches out with grabby hands for Tweek. His round cheeks are beat red and water spills from his eyes like waterfalls.

"It's okay, Buddy, me and Aunt Bebe will watch Red Racer with you before you go to bed," Clyde coos as he pats Ave on the back.

Avery responds with an indecipherable shriek, and Tweek leaps up to tear his child out of Clyde's arms. Babe, however, intercepts him. She takes him by his quivering shoulders and leads him to the front door.

"I love you!" Tweek yells back into the living room in hopes Avery won't forget, and then stumbles onto the dark front porch.

With a click, Bebe shuts the door behind them. Taking him away from the situation, however, does not ease his ever burning guilt.

"I'll just text Craig and tell him I can't make it- that's what I'll do," Tweek rambles as he gnaws on his fingernails.

"No, no you aren't!" Bebe decides for him. "When's the last time you've actually done a single thing for yourself? I understand wanting to be here with Ave, but what about Craig?"

"What about him? Avery always comes first," Tweek demands, and she steps between him and the door to make sure he doesn't lunge for it.

"I know that, you're a wonderful father, but you need to do this," she presses on. "He absolutely has to get over this separation anxiety. What's gonna happen when he starts preschool or when he's old enough to spend the night with his friends?"

She's right. He knows she is. Avery might not be upset at all right now if Tweek did something different. Had he instilled his fear of the world in his son? He didn't mean to. How did he not realize? How is he always so stupid?

"Listen to him!" Tweek persists as he reaches his open palms towards the door. "I can't just leave him, he's crying!"

"So are you!"

Tweek blinks only to realize she's right. Water has built up in the corners of his eyes. He sneers and uses the sleeves of Craig's hoodie to wipe the evidence of his weakness away.

"I can't leave him alone, Bebe. I just- what if he thinks I've abandoned him? What if he thinks I don't care that he's upset? What if-"

Wood creaks beneath them as she steps forward and pulls him into a hug. She squeezes him tight, and he holds his breath. They stand there like that as she squeezes him tighter and tighter. The way a mother might.

"You aren't Richard," she assures into the shell of his ear. He goes rigid and swallows the tension. The water in his eyes flows heavy. Somehow, she struck a cord in him.

"You told me when he was born that you wanted to be the father you never had, and you are," she assures him in a whisper, "Avery's too little to understand right now, but he wants you to be happy. Go."

She lets him go and backs towards the door.

"He'll be fine. Now, if I see you back here before ten I'll rip the string out of Craig's dirty jacket and strangle you with it. Okay?"

He swallows, and, with no direction of what else he can do, nods in agreement.

"Okay," she repeats, solidifying their deal.

Tweek watches the door latch shut as if his brain's missing, then stands in the dark and listens to his baby cry. He looks back to Bonnie, who is sitting in the darkened driveway, and then back to the door. Again, he regrets making an agreement.

With a heavy heart, he walks to the front door and tries to open it. The knob clicks and resists the movement; locked.

He tries to calm down, to steady his breath. His nerves feel like they've ignited in his aching heart and the damage is spreading like wildfire. Everything looks blurry as his eyes well up. His fingertips feel numb and his ears ring.

He turns away from that wretched door and stumbles into the gravel driveway. He recognizes this terrible feeling of breathlessness. It's a demon he's struggled with for s long as he can remember, yet never quite conquered.

He yanks Bonnie's driver side door open and falls behind the wheel. With a loud crack it slams shut, and his numbness gives way into fury. Why, he doesn't know, but it engulfs him completely. How could something as simple as leaving the house turn into such a scary notion?

Things ended well for everyone else around him. Bebe and Clyde carved a loving marriage out if the face of their mountain of struggles. So did Kenny and Kyle. Perhaps, at the very least, he should try listening to those who succeeded before him.

His heart, however, isn't beating for Craig right now. It's just aching for Avery.

**...**

Excitement or terror, Tweek's not sure which emotion is pushing the gas peddle. His headlights cut through the fog of night down a long, gravel road. It feels strange to hear tiny rocks flick at Bonnie's underbelly. He'd only ever walked this trail before.

Bonnie rocks to a stop in a small parking area. Most of the loose gravel has been reclaimed by grass and weeds. The wooden posts that line the drive are rotting away, but Tweek can see the shine of new playground equipment in his headlights. Maybe this weekend he and Avery can investigate.

Avery… hopefully he's stopped crying.

He steps out of his car to make the short trek to the river. He notices the absence of Craig's shiny red sports car. Perhaps he's running late himself.

The moon's light shines down in flakes through fluttering leaves, and fireflies dance like embers through the forest. Gentle waves lap from the pond. A distant rowboat taps a lonely song against the side of a dock. The scent of moss and wet earth sinks into his chest. The smell alone has the power to bring him to his knees from the sheer emotion it brings.

Craig knew what he was doing when he asked to meet here. Tweek's already melting in his hands.

As he navigates around the beaten path, he catches a whiff of a dark and smokey musk. He can see the bridge, now, but just beyond it an orange glow illuminates the trees. Someone must be camping nearby.

No one's waiting for him on the bridge. It's wooden slats creek beneath his feet. The rickety old thing is the only barrier between him and the river beneath, but he trusts it.

"Hey! I'm over here!"

Tweek's head jerks up to see a figure on the other side of the river. With a little squinting he makes out his dashing date for the night, who's swinging a stick with what appears to be a hotdog flopping at it's end. There's a small fire pit that's blazing nearby; the source of the mysterious orange glow.

"What are you doing?" Tweek hollers back with his hands cupped around his mouth. "Most people don't invite their dates to dinner in the middle of the woods, you know!"

"I'm not most people!" Craig replies. He didn't need to tell Tweek that, with the way he's swinging around his sticked weiner like an orchestral conductor.

"You already got my attention, put your sausage away!"

Craig kneels with laughter, and Tweek follows it across the bridge and towards the fire pit. It's a small ring of metal on a dirt patch, but its burning bright. Craig sets his wiener stick on a nearby picnic table as to properly greet his date.

"I'm glad you came," he says, his signature goofy grin on his face. He walks to Tweek with his arms open but stops rigid and juts out his hand for a shake instead.

Tweek shakes his head with a puff of laughter.

"You can hug me," he says, offering himself up for an awkward embrace. It doesn't feel awkward, though, when Craig steps forward and reels Tweek in against his chest. Just warm and familiar as he squeezes back.

He has a lingering feeling the next few hours will be memorable, thanks both to Craig's unorthodox idea of a good date and how it feels to be held by him again.


	10. Dive, Dive!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to my friend Scarlettshazam for beta reading again! I love ya, chick, and you've helped me and this story a lot!

Smoke rolls up and around Craig and Tweek's hot dogs, which dangle on the ends of twigs Craig yanked off a nearby tree. The flame licks at their skins until they're browning; the smell makes Tweek's mouth water. Small talk settles over the cracking wood and chirping crickets. It feels like so much more than that, though, as Craig talks about his day. Tweek leans in attentively and rolls his hot dog-stick as Craig talks about work and fixing a motor.

Tweek doesn't understand the words Craig uses; they're all far too technical, but he loves to hear them nonetheless.

Craig slaps his hissing dog onto a bun as he wraps up his retelling, then gazes at Tweek. The fire's orange glow reflects in his cool blue eyes. When he smiles they do too; their corners crinkle with joy.

Tweek wants to hear more. They've talked so much in the last few weeks about Tweek there's hardly been room for Craig to get a word in about his own life. In fact, Tweek knows next to nothing about it.

"How about you, how was your day?" Craig selflessly asks with his grin still on his face, but Tweek doesn't want the spotlight this time.

He wants to hear more about Craig.

"It wasn't bad. We've talked too much about me, though," he says as he rolls his stick in his hands to evenly burn his hotdog. "I want to know more about you."

"Oh," Craig says, befuddled, as if no one said that to him before, "but I'm boring."

"No, you're not," Tweek counters. "You showed up at Clyde's house in a sports car you built yourself. You invited me out to dinner and we wound up in the middle of the fucking woods. You're the most exciting thing that's happened to me in years."

Craig smiles to himself, "You make me sound cool."

"If not crazy," Tweek says, and they share a small laugh.

"I told you most of it," Craig says while staring into the darkness of the woods, "I spend most of my time under the hood of a car so life passes me by sometimes. Oh, I bought a house out here on the pond last year; I don't think I told you that."

Tweek listens attentively and watches Craig's face as he speaks. The fiery glow of their campsite dances across his sharp features. He's beautiful, just as he'd always been.

"Is that why I didn't see your car in the parking lot, you can walk here from your house?"

"We're in my back yard," Craig says as he points into the woods.

A subtle glow seeps through the cracks between the trees down the river. That's all Tweek can see of Craig's house, but he knows what it looks like. They used to ride their bikes up the trail and marvel at the little brick abode and its glorious view of the pond from the riverside. Too bad the last old bastard who lived there uglied it up with lawn ornaments and blatant neglect. Last time Tweek saw it, it looked damn near condemned.

"You bought the house where that old guy lived? The one with gnomes in his yard?" Tweek shivers at the memory.

"Yeah! The bank foreclosed on it a couple years ago and I got it pretty cheap," Craig explains.

Tweek gives Craig a look of conflicting emotions.

"Don't worry, I let dad take the gnomes for target practice. They're nothing but little shards of clay beards behind his house now. You won't even recognize the place when you see it."

While enamored with ideas of what Craig's home looks like, Tweek isn't satisfied with the conclusion of his question. Surely somewhere in the last six years something happened in Craig's life aside from watching the paint on his sports car dry.

It can't have all been rainbows and sunshine.

"So that's it, huh? Six years apart and you don't have any juicy secrets? You've at least dated since I've been gone, right?" Tweek inquires with a quirked brow.

"Well, a couple times," he admits.

"Hmm," Tweek ponders as he pulls his hot dog from the fire to give it a look over. Not black enough. Back in it goes. "Anybody I know?"

Craig rubs the back of his neck with a shrug, though the look on his face is very telling. "Maybe. Doesn't matter, though, none of them were as cute as you."

If Craig's intention is to distract Tweek with flattery, he's doing a fine job of it. He tries to hide just how much he loves the compliments by shaking his head, but his lips betray him with his smile. He wants to blame the atmosphere for his insatiable attraction to Craig, but it'd be badly misplaced. Every dumb line Craig's said since their reunion at the grocery store left Tweek's tongue in knots and a fire in his stomach.

Perhaps it's because Craig's affections for him never stopped burning.

Tweek yanks the stick out of the charred remains of what was once a hot dog and throws it on a paper plate in his lap. He doesn't ask for a bun and Craig doesn't offer one. Some things never change, and Tweek's obsession with gnawing off burnt hot dog skin like a corn cob is one of the grosser preferences he's held onto.

"I'm not gonna learn anything else about you if you keep beating around the bush," Tweek says. "I wanna know about your day-to-day. The ups and downs. It doesn't have to be anything extraordinary."

"Sorry. The last few years feel like crazy blurs that all run together sometimes. Days keep dragging on, but nothing ever changes," Craig confides, "Sometimes I get overwhelmed by my own… sameness."

He still smiles, but the tone in his voice is lower than Tweek's familiar with. For the first time since he's been home he catches a glint of something unfamiliar in Craig's gaze.

Sadness?

Such a lackluster opinion of life if strange coming from someone Tweek finds so extraordinary. When they were younger, Craig didn't have to jump off roofs onto trampolines to have a good time like Tweek and Kenny did. He was always comfortable wherever he was; home in his own skin. It's something about Craig he was always jealous of. Seems now, though, he's given into restlessness.

"Well, how about we walk out to the dock and sit like we used to? We can watch the stars and talk about how boring our lives have been," Tweek proposes.

Craig perks up at that, like Tweek knew he would. When they'd hit a snag in their teenage years they'd sneak out onto the wooden dock and look to the sky for advice. Craig knew every star personally. He told Tweek their names time and time again, though he never remembered, and read their horoscopes like an oracle.

They were usually wrong or so vague they didn't make sense, but it made Tweek feel better. Craig could peek into the future with a little help from his paperback copy of The Biggest Book of Horoscopes Ever, and no one could tell Tweek different.

They put out their fire and migrate towards the wooden bridge from their youth. They walk close together, much like they did on their stroll to the gas station. This time, though, has less to do with the dark and more with their undeniable attraction. With a bump of their arms Tweek's stomach explodes like the sky on Independence Day.

It probably doesn't help that he associates the bridge they're crossing with countless nights of running his hands over Craig's body. Things aren't like when they were young and in love, though; when Craig used to reach out and take a handful of Tweek's ass just because he felt like it.

Though, Tweek wouldn't mind.

They cross the bridge and head towards the water. A shattered reflection of the moon dances across the surface of the pond. Summer frogs chirp to one another, and that lone boat still clings into the dock. Most of all, the milky way glimmers above them, greeting them like an old friend. Star-streaked blues and purples weave into the mystery of the sky. The mountains stand like silhouettes of ancient behemoths against its stunning beauty.

Virginia's night skies were the same. They had pretty stars and steep mountains, too, but he never found a home in them like he did in Colorado. Without Craig around, the universe was a footnote rather than the title.

Tweek jogs ahead of Craig onto the pier. Like the bridge, it's an old wooden thing made up of logs and planks. There were at least five canoes tied here in Stark's heyday. Tonight, there's a single fishing boat. He makes it to the end of the dock, far out into the water, and takes a deep breath of the rich, mossy air.

"You definitely know how to pick a good date spot," Tweek comments when Craig sits down beside him.

"Why, thank you," he replies as he unties his shoes.

"What are you doing?"

"Sticking my feet in," he says as he yanks off his socks. Then, he scoots to the very edge to plunge his feet into the rippling waves. Tweek falls beside him to follow suit. A hiss whistles from between his teeth when he dips them into the dark and chilly liquid. It's refreshing, though. Hopefully no fish nibble his toes.

Avery would love this, Tweek bets. He's never swum in a pool, let alone experienced a pond like this. While that's entirely the fault of Tweek and his unbearable fear of his kid drowning, it doesn't seem fair. Avery should get to have memories like these, too.

Tweek's face droops a bit when he thinks of his son. He's probably still crying in the living room. The urge to call Bebe rattles in his chest like an animal in a cage. It's desperate and frantic. He texted her on his way to the pond, though, and she told him to shut up and enjoy the night. He's fine, she said, just get laid already.

He huffs at the memory and watches the gentle water dance around their ankles. He's lucky he has such great people in his life. He'd be lost without them. Bebe, Clyde; he's even felt grateful for Cartman a time or two.

Then there's Craig.

"I beat myself up for not coming home sooner," Tweek says. It's a sudden confession that takes Craig a beat to process.

"Why didn't you?"

"A lot of reasons, when I think about it. Coming back would mean owning up to the dumb things I did. I was worried Bebe would think I was taking advantage of her if I moved in, I still am sometimes. Then there's my dad. I was always terrified he would get out of prison and find me and Avery or something. I think I had good reasons," Tweek mutters. His toes in the water is a cold, stimulating feeling. Though, also a bit of a scary one; he doesn't know what could be lurking beneath them. "But when I look back on it, it was just because of fear. Like everything else in my life."

"Are you still afraid now?" Craig asks, and Tweek nods.

"My head is like that pier over there," he comments. His finger lifts to guide Craig's eyes to the other side of the pond. It's dim in the moon's light, but he can make out the wooden platform above the glistening waters if he squints.

"It feels like I'm always sick or something, and the antidote is on the other side. I want so bad to get there, but… the water. It looks pretty on the surface, but it's deep and massive and I don't know what's waiting for me underneath. It's all black. Sometimes I think it'd be easy just to close my eyes and jump in, to suck it up and take the plunge. I'll never get there if I just sit on this pier and never move. But the fear of drowning, of what might be in the dark that I can't see- It keeps me from going anywhere.

"I thought moving here was taking the big plunge. Turns out, I'm just dipping my toes in the water."

"Let's do it," Craig says.

"Um, do what?"

"Take the big plunge."

Craig hops up from the edge of the dock and lifts his shirt over his head. Tweek watches, wide eyed and in shock, as his companion strips down. He's wordless for a moment as he marvels at Craig's bare physique. He's a lot leaner than Tweek imagined, and his arms have built some muscle over the years. Tweek remains in silent confusion, enjoying his view, until Craig reaches down to unbutton his jeans.

"Jesus, Craig! What are you doing?! Keep your pants on!" Tweek demands as he jolts up and grabs Craig's bare arms.

"But my clothes will get wet. I'm gonna keep my underwear on."

"Wh- Don't jump in! It was a metaphor! What if someone sees you? What if you drown?"

"I don't know, and I'll never find out if I don't do it," Craig says, and Tweek's throat goes dry.

Craig's blue jeans are thrown atop his discarded shirt and he's left in only his briefs. His clothes are abandoned on the pier, as if such things mean nothing. The wooden structure groans and vibrates as Craig runs to the back of it, preparing for a running jump.

"Don't be stupid!" Tweek screams, but Craig runs. The glistening water ripples in warning. The fishing boat clanks in distress. Craig doesn't care. His bare legs kick beneath him as he sprits to the edge of the pier's safety and dives.

"Craig!" Tweek yells.

The pond quakes and quivers at Craig's impact, and he disappears beneath the inky abyss. Tweek scrambles at the end of the pier like Craig had, though lacking the same courage. When the pier stops, so does Tweek. He frantically scans the dark and endless pool of water. As seconds pass the tight knot in his chest strangles him.

Much to Tweek's relief, Craig breaches the surface, laughing. Tweek sits at the water's edge and watches as Craig paddles towards him.

"Jump in!" Craig yells, gesturing for Tweek to plummet in with him.

"No!" Tweek argues without missing a beat. "You're insane! We're in public and you're skinny dipping! We'll get arrested!"

"That sounds like fear talking!"

"Craig!" Tweek let out as a strangled, gurgling sound. And so, Craig swims up to the pier. He grips splintered edges of the wooden planks Tweek's sitting on. There's a hand on either side of Tweek, and Craig bobs in the water at his knees.

"You don't have to be afraid," Craig assures with a wet, lopsided smile. "I'll be in here with you."

Craig's grin captivates him. That same gushy, love drunk feeling flows through him in waves when Craig lays his chin against the cliff of his knee. It's a wonderful, freeing feeling. A new realization wracks through his core: The only thing stopping him from feeling more is getting in the water. Is fear.

"Well… Okay," Tweek says.

Craig watches as Tweek's clumsy fingers unbutton his red flannel. It slips off his shoulders. He tosses it with Craig's pile. Next comes his tank top. He feels exposed when he peels it away from his flinching stomach and lifts it over his head. Craig's eyes are burning into him, cheeks tinted red.

"If watching me undress is too much for you you're free to turn around," Tweek gathers the courage to tease.

"Would you rather me turn around?" Craig asks, and Tweek's cheeks tint the same shade of vermillion.

"No," he whispers.

His fingers clasp the metal stud at his midriff, and he pulls it free of the denim. The popped button exposes even more of him. Pale, nervous skin quivers with each of his quick breaths. Blond hair trails down and disappears under the band of his boxers. Craig's soft eyes drink it in.

"Help me," Tweek orders. Timidly, Craig's hands grip the legs of his pants to help him slide out of the restrictive denim. Shivers prickle up his ankles and into the most sensitive parts of him. It feels so good to be touched.

He wads up Token's borrowed jeans and tosses them behind him. The air of night is cool against his balmy flesh, and Craig's hands have found a home on his outer thighs. He closes his eyes and tips his head back, reveling in how different this moment is than any that came before it. The endless sky of stars above him paired with the dark unknown below makes him feel so small. For the first time, it's a comforting thought rather than a terrifying one. Water dances around his ankles, wood presses imprints in the backs of his bare legs, and Craig's fingers grip him as if he may slip away.

"You're beautiful."

Tweek blinks stars out of his eyes and looks at Craig, who stares wishfully at his exposed body and flushed face. Tweek had been called a lot of things in his twenty-two years of life. Scrawny or unapproachable on his best days. Once or twice Molly told him he was handsome. Beautiful, though, was something only Craig called him. As if he could see parts of Tweek that no one else could.

And right now, all that matters is what Craig thinks he is.

And Craig still thinks he's beautiful.

"Thank you," Tweek hums. "I think I'm ready."

With one fluid movement Tweek pushes off the wooden planks to stand. Craig's hands spread open and slide down his thighs to his ankles, as if he would die without the contact. It shoots hot electricity through Tweek's core and makes his skin tremor. Begrudgingly, Craig releases his hold to make room for Tweek's rebirth. He floats backwards and away, letting the black water take him.

Tweek doesn't take the same running jump. He presses his toes against the edge of the jetty with a steading breath. And then he jumps. His breath leaves him when he makes fissures in the water's surface. His eyes are clamped closed, but, through his eyelids, he can see the moon's light fade into darkness. Terror engulfs him as he sinks deeper and deeper into the inky depths of Stark's pond. His lungs are empty and the surface feels so far away.

Why did he do this? What if he doesn't make it back up? What if his burning lungs never refill with crisp air?

He kicks his legs, but keeps going down.

What if he never sees Avery again?

His big toe sinks into something. He jerks it away at first, until he realizes it's the muddy pond bottom. His feet sink into it and he pushes himself up. The dark fades as water pulses between his kicking legs, and he gasps in a desperate breath when his head breaks through the pond's surface.

"Oh, Jesus!" Tweek wheezes.

A pair of hands find him under the blueish tinge of the water. They prick and scratch at the curves in his side, which makes his already straining lungs quake with laugher.

"Craig, stop, I'm trying to breathe!" Tweek says. He smashes his joined fists against the surface, which sends an explosion of water raining down on them. Craig lifts his arms to shield his face from the rain Tweek made, laughing all the while.

In retribution, Craig sends handfuls of water pouring down on him. The once still, calm pond quakes like a sea storm as they battle with one another. Laughter explodes with each splash, and excited screams overtake the chirping crickets and sloshing water. Tweek tries to back away for more prime splashing real estate, but Craig ripples the water close behind him.

Tweek turns and raises his fists high above his head, ready to send pond water raining down on Craig. He's much closer than Tweek anticipated, though, and Craig grabs ahold of his wrists to deflect the blow.

Tweek's laughing too hard to struggle. Their legs brush together beneath the surface, but he's too enamored with this feeling to push away. Moonbeams reflect in Craig's wet skin just as it does the pond. His black hair wildly clings to his face, and his lips are tugged into a wide, joyous smile.

"What are you gonna do now, Tweek?" he teases with his fists still gripping Tweek's arms.

Tweek jerks his hands forward and they slide in Craig's grip. His pruned fingers settle on Craig's shoulders, and he pushes closer through the water. Their hot, trembling breath intermingles for a moment, then Tweek's lips brush Craig's.


	11. Growing Up Sucks

When Tweek pulls away from Craig's chapped lips they stare at one another. Craig watches with eyes narrowed from shock. When it wears away, he grips the underside of the dock to drift closer.

Tweek's blond hair is tamed by the weight of the water. It sticks to his face in sloppy strands, and Craig brushes them away with his knuckle. Then, before Tweek can even blurt out embarrassed apologies for his unprovoked kiss, Craig's lips land on him again.

And again, and again.

Water sloshes against their heated, flushed skin. Their bodies bob helplessly against the pond's black waves. Still, they're locked together. Their lips redden from being pinched between each other's teeth. Their hands grasp, ravenous and desperate, at each other's shivering bodies.

Each zealous kiss and frantic stroke of the skin pulls Tweek deeper into desire. Their heaving, bare chests press together. The most intimate part of Craig presses against the quivering meat of Tweek's inner thigh. It stiffens with want against his flesh, growing with his excitement. The only thing between Tweek and Craig's erection is a thin layer of wet cotton.

Tweek hums a pleasured sound against Craig's lips. It reverberates, submissive and needy, in the wet space between them.

Craig breaks their kiss with a chuckle. The warmth of his breath ghosts across Tweek's soaked face; the heat of it prickles down his torso and into his groin. Jesus Christ, it feels good.

"Oh, yeah?" Craig teases about his pathetic and insatiable sound.

"Sorry," Tweek groans, his face flush. "I can feel your, um…"

He looks down between them like an embarrassed child. He can't force the word out, and Craig stares at him.

"I can feel your dick, man," he blurts.

"Oh," Craig mutters. His mortification comes out in a shaky, "I'm sorry. Do you want to stop? We can stop."

"No," Tweek replies. His voice is almost lost in the slosh of the waves, but Craig hears it. "I… I like it. It feels good."

Craig tightens his embrace, and Tweek melts against him. The water stills as they settle into the intimate contact. Their cheeks brush together; their chests pump heavy. Craig seems just as desperate for the affection as Tweek is. He places kisses in Tweek's hair, on his cheek, in his ear. Anywhere he can reach gets a kiss.

"That feels good, too," Tweek sniggers.

His laugh gives his heart away. It's small and meek thanks to the blood rushing to his groin. Craig must notice the growing, stiff lump between them. A small, curious sound slips from Craig's lips when their bulges brush through their underwear.

Tweek wants to be embarrassed as his excitement is exposed, but he can't be. Quite frankly, he's having fun.

"I know you want to take things slow," Craig's voice huffs in the shell of Tweek's ear. "But if there's something you want from me, you know I'll give it to you."

The thick, hard muscle buried in Tweek's thigh throbs with want. He can feel it through Craig's briefs, and it leaves his mind numb and hungry.

"More," Tweek demands. "I want more."

Craig must've found something under the dock to press his feet into. His big hands dig into Tweek's hips like handles, and he lifts him out of the water. A small sound spills out of Tweek when his wet ass hits the wooden dock. Craig's stronger than he thought.

"How much more?" Craig breathes. This time Craig's breath is on his knees. The sensation sends delicious prickles through Tweek's limbs. And the question; the question grazes his heart and rattles him to the bone.

"As much as you'll give."

Craig lifts himself up to bestow Tweek with more of his warm kisses, but this time they caress his stomach. His ridiculous blue hat was safely abandoned in his heap of clothes, so Tweek runs his unsteady hands through Craig's black hair.

The calloused fingers that clutch Tweek's hipbones move to hook into the elastic of his boxers. The soaked cloth does little to hide his ever-growing erection. Especially when Craig's kisses travel down his midriff. The affectionate gesture rips the breath from Tweek's lungs.

Craig's hot tongue trails dangerously downwards. Tweek's chest heaves when he's freed from his boxers. His cock, desperate and flush, is exposed to Craig's ravenous intentions. Tweek ucks a hiss in through his teeth.

Craig looks up at him. The galaxy above reflects in his gaze. He smiles with his eyes. The corners wrinkle and his brows tilt into a foxy grin.

"Keep a look out for me," he rasps.

Craig gingerly takes Tweek's cock in his fist. He squeezes, then makes slow, careful pumps around the reddening shaft. Those baby blues drink in the sight of Tweek's exposed, sensitive skin as he rubs the tip with his thumb.

Tweek squirms. His eyes flutter and roll.

He's been untouched for so long the friction feels foreign, but his body can't help but flex and pant. He can't rip his eyes away from what Craig's doing. His cock twitches and shivers as the head penetrates the closed fist. Craig's sharp, dripping features reflect the moon's glow. The bare peaks of his shoulders rise from the surface and ripple the water with each jerk.

Tweek hums a song of ecstasy to keep Craig's fist pumping.

"Shit, you're dripping."

He's right. A trickle of pre-come glistens at the tip and dribbles onto Craig's hand.

"Sorry," Tweek huffs with eyes heavy and half lidded.

"For what? That's fucking hot."

Craig runs his thumb in the mess. "Can… I suck on it?"

Tweek's lungs deflate at the question, but he manages to choke out a, "F-fuck, yes. Yes."

Craig traces the sticky trail to the head with the tip of his scorching tongue. With a thrum in his throat, he tastes and teases. Tweek's head jerks back. He bites into his lip but can't contain his needy sounds.

"Oh my god," Tweek groans. He clutches fistfuls of black hair as his eyes slide closed.

Craig's plump lips part to engulf him fully. Wet sucking and growls reverberate between his thighs. Ecstasy scrapes up Tweek's spine and into his limbs. His toes curl in the water. His rapid breath quakes.

He's so engulfed in the pleasurable friction Craig's lips make he forgot he's supposed to be lookout. His eyes crack lazily open and his head tilts towards the path to the bridge. His ribcage expands with trembling breath, and his lips part to expose his desperate need with pleased coos.

Craig's mouth falls open. Saliva and pre-come coat Tweek's cock and drip from Craig's lips. A filthy, wet sound fills the air as Craig smacks the smooth head against his flat, burning tongue. A ravenous growl tears from Tweek's tense throat. He pumps his hips, desperate to slide back inside Craigs' throat. With a mischievous chuckle, Craig sucks his cock back down.

Tweek's vision is blurred through his cracked eyelids, but he notices something shining through the trees he hadn't before. It bounces and sways as it grows brighter and closer.

Jesus Christ, is that a flashlight?

"Fuck, Craig, someone's coming!" Tweek panics.

Craig's head jerks away to glance at the beam of light, which has made its way to the bridge.

"Shit!"

Craig claws at the pier to pull himself out of the water while Tweek shoves his still-throbbing dick into his briefs. Tweek can make out the figure jogging the trail, now. It's just a black silhouette, but the spotlight of the flashlight shines curiously in their direction.

"Ah! They're coming! What if it's the park ranger? We're gonna get arrested!"

Craig snatches his unbuttoned shirt off the pier and throws it on. He takes handfuls of clothing in his arms, and Tweek clambers to help.

"Aye!" Tweek hears a familiar voice holler nearby. A whole new feeling scrapes up his spine. It's one of pure, unadulterated terror.

"It's Cartman!" Tweek hyperventilates.

"What?"

"It's my boss! Jesus fucking Christ almighty, we gotta get outta here!"

"Follow me," Craig orders before dashing away into the darkness.

"Ahh! Don't leave me here, you ass!"

They clutch bundles of disheveled cloths to their bare chests as they escape in their underwear.

"What the hell, man!" Eric's boisterous voice screeches in confused terror behind them.

Tweek jerks his head back. His boss stands off the side of the trail in jogging gear; they're so close he can make out the red pinstripes on his pants. Eric's mouth hangs open in a flabbergast expression, as if the ridiculous sight before him must be a fever dream.

"Hey, boss! See you Monday!" Tweek blurts, as if screaming a greeting will make things any less awkward next time he clocks in.

Hysterical laughter roars from Craig's chest as they sprint away from Cartman's flashlight. It's such a free and joyous sound. Tweek feels it burst from his throat, too. They lunge into the trees. Thistle and weeds scrape at their feet and ankles. Low branches scratch and whip at their shoulders. Craig bears the brunt of it, but he's too consumed with dodging trees and laughing like an idiot to be deterred.

"Where are we going?" Tweek screams as trees whip past them.

"My house! It's really close!"

Tweek can see the streetlight get larger through the cracks between trees. They're almost there, now.

To keep up with his long-legged counterpart, Tweek kicks his feet harder and harder. Another disadvantage to having stubby legs, though, is tall bushes. Craig easily clears one with a jump, but Tweek trips and rolls full force into it's prickly branches. His bundle of clothes explode from his arms and scatter as he bats the branches away.

"Ouch! Ouch! Man down!" Tweek shrieks. He reels out of the bush and onto the dirt forest floor with a thump.

"Are you okay?" Craig shouts into the dark.

"Ouch, ouch," Tweek chants in agony. His briefs are loaded with burrs and thorns. He struggles to his feet and tries to catch up, but his sprint slows to a limp. "I fucked my leg up, and there's thorns in my dick, man!"

Craig's unquenchable laughter booms through the trees again. He jogs back, winded from how hard his lungs are quaking.

"There's thorns in your dick?" Craig cackles as he kneels beside Tweek, who has given into the sweet release of death on the forest floor.

"Yes. It's too late for me- go, save yourself," Tweek gasps.

"Oh, shut up. My house is right there," He points past the trees. "Get up!"

"Man, really, I don't know if I can. My leg fuckin' hurts."

Craig fishes his phone out of the pile of clothes in his arms, then shines a light on Tweek's feet.

"Oh, shit. You're bleeding. Like, a lot."

"What!? Oh, my god!"

"Calm down! I'll go throw my shit on the picnic table then come back for you."

"Hurry! I feel bugs on me, and I'm exposed!"

"They're just bugs, they aren't gonna climb up your asshole."

"Craig!"

"Ugh, I'll be back!"

Tweek spends an agonizing minute smacking ants of his sides until Craig returns. Like the night at Tweek's party, Craig lifts him on his back and carries him the rest of the way.

"Don't worry, I have a first aid kit in the kitchen somewhere," Craig assures him as they make their way around the house

The property is lit by white bulbs at the end of tall, cast-iron yard lamps. It looks nothing like Tweek remembered. The brick and stonework that once crumbled under grime are clean and well cared for. The lawn is mowed in careful, straight lines, and small trees have been planted by the road.

There's an expansion to the garage lined with baby blue siding, and it looks like Craig's had some concrete poured where the gravel drive used to be. Atop that concrete sits two very nice cars. To the left there's a sharp looking vehicle Tweek hasn't seen before. It's blue, and it has to be from the 70's with it's huge square grill. To the right sits good ol' red racer. It shines and sparkles in Craig's porch lights, just as it did the night he drove it to Clyde's house.

"That's a nice car, the blue one," Tweek comments despite the burrs still digging into his unmentionables.

"Oh, that's a 1971 Chevrolet Chevelle. It's a customer's."

"From the shop?"

"Nah, I restore and customize classic cars on the side. Just finished that one for a dude in Minnesota."

"How the hell did you get a customer from Minnesota?"

"I take Red Racer to a lot of car shows."

After discovering that tidbit of information, Tweek can't help but wonder what other metal beasts are locked up in his three-car garage. Avery would lose his mind in there, Tweek's sure.

They reach the porch, still dripping and half-naked. Tweek slides off Craig's back to stand on his own. It stings when their feet slap and stain the concrete. They're met with a tall, white door. Three stain glass windows are fixed in the wood in an oblong pattern. Those weren't there before, either, but they're beautiful.

Craig reaches down to his hip, only to remember he abandoned his pants, and the keys inside them, in his back yard.

"Oh, shit," he mumbles.

"Are we locked out?"

"Nah, I keep a spare hidden."

"It's under your welcome mat, isn't it?" Tweek ponders as he stares at the rubber thing under their feet.

"No?" Craig replies. He kneels to flip up the corner of the mat, all the while staring at Tweek. "Why would you think such a thing?"

"Your password for everything is Red Racer one with capitol R's. You aren't very creative with these things."

"You remember that? Don't touch my laptop. There's porn on there," Craig blurts with genuine concern, which only inflames Tweek's laughter.

Wielding the not-so-well-hidden spare key, Craig pushes his front door open. They step into a mudroom. It's tiny, but quaint. The only piece of furniture is a large mirror lined with wooden hooks for coats and a long chest at its base. Craig saunters past it and leads Tweek into the next room, which is the kitchen.

It's probably the biggest room in Craig's little house. Light grey cabinets with dark marble countertops line the room, and a matching island is fixed in its center. Tweek marvels at the stainless steal appliances and glistening, tile floor.

Is that a dishwasher? Jesus Christ, this is the nicest house Tweek has ever seen in person.

Craig yanks open a draw beside the sink. It's devoid of any dishes and sparkling like its never been used. A tinge of inadequacy tugs in Tweek's chest. The closest he ever gets to a kitchen this nice is the cabinet section at Lowes.

Random odds and ends bang around in the drawer as Craig shifts through the junk inside.

"I know there's gauze in here somewhere," he murmurs as he takes handfuls of things and drops them on the countertop to shift through them.

Out from under the cords and rolling batteries Tweek spots something shiny and thin. As Craig shoves things around, it gets pushed closer to Tweek's curious gaze. It's a photo, he can tell that much. Against his better judgement, he reaches out and plucks it off the marble countertop.

Craig's in the picture. He's wearing a nice suit and a tie. He has his arm around another man who's also in a suit, and they're both smiling. The man beside him is blond, like Tweek, but his hair is nicely cut. And, in general, better looking. Tweek's small nose and narrow face couldn't hold a candle to that sharp jaw and angled features.

He flips it over to find pen-marks scrawled across the back. "June 2015," it reads, which places Craig and the handsome man with him only three years prior.

"Is this one of those ex-boyfriends who aren't as cute as me?" Tweek dares to ponder.

Craig stops sifting to glance over. He reaches out for the picture, and Tweek gives it to him.

He shakes his head and mutters, "This is a mistake," as he waves the shiny paper in his hand. "I was being stupid."

"Care to elaborate?" Tweek ponders as he leans further over the counter. He asks casually as not to give away how desperate he is to know, because that would be admitting he's a tiny bit jealous of the man Craig's clinging to in that picture.

"I was married," Craig says before tossing the photo back amongst the junk on the counter.

"What?"

"Yeah," is Craig's reply, as if that answers anything at all.

Is that a picture from the wedding? Why hadn't Bebe or Clyde mentioned it? Why did Craig never tell him until just now? He could have earlier by the bonfire. That last question rolls around in Tweek's head until he can't take it anymore.

"You never mentioned an ex-husband," he presses with a blond brow cocked. "I thought you didn't have any juicy secrets."

Craig scoffs as he uses his arms like a bulldozer to slide everything off the counter and back into the drawer. The picture of Craig and the unfamiliar man is one of the things to be buried. Odds and ends bang against the drawers wooden bottom before he slides it smoothly closed.

"It's not a secret. Just one of those things that stops mattering. It was a while ago," Craig says as if he doesn't still have a picture of their wedding laying around. It's obvious Craig doesn't want to talk about it, but Tweek's irked that Craig didn't confide his fucking marriage of all things. Especially after Tweek told him about Avery's conception.

"Molly is a thing that stopped mattering, but I still told you about her," Tweek accuses.

Craig gives him a funny look as he unwinds the gauze.

He gestures to the couch in the living room, and, with a defeated sign, Tweek limps to it. Every time he lands on his sliced foot he winces. The scar his wound will become will be a permanent reminder of tonight, no matter how he ends up feeling about that later.

Tweek falls back onto the sectional. The smell of whatever furniture store it came from lingers in its cushions. A sigh escapes him as he settles into the fluff and his bones creak into place.

Craig approaches with the gauze unwound and a packet of some antibacterial something. He sits cross-legged on the floor to tend to Tweek's split, bloody flesh. His hands are cracked and rough, but warm on Tweek's wound. It feels nice despite the throbbing.

He's usually the one wiping up blood and bandaging boo-boos. To be the one on the other end of such care is strange.

"Thomas," Craig mutters.

Tweek perks up at the name. He stares at Craig, who's still sopping wet in only his space themed boxers and unbuttoned shirt.

"Your dad?"

Craig chuckles with a shake of his head.

"My ex. That's his name."

A thousand questions flood Tweek's mind with this bit of information, but he doesn't ask them. He just sits and stares, waiting for Craig to elaborate.

"I knew him vaguely since we were kids, but never talked to him until he came into the shop. He had a Chevy Impala- a 2006- head gasket was blown," Craig says, as if those words meant anything to Tweek, "He was cute."

A sinking feeling tugs at the pit of Tweek's stomach.

"We talked. Met up a few times. Things went from there. I thought I found something good. He worked, my family liked him, he was good conversation sometimes," Craig's face scrunches, "We didn't get along, but he loved me. I thought that's what mattered."

"It takes more than love sometimes," Tweek says.

"I know, but it was nice to hear it sometimes," Craig lets out a heavy huff, "fighting with Thomas was terrible, but, I mean… he was there."

With Craig's goofy demeanor and ever-present smile Tweek would have never guessed he's been harboring something like a divorce. It makes sense when Tweek thinks about it, though.

Tweek got taken away, Token left for college never to be seen again, and Jimmy moved away to try, and fail miserably, to make it big in Los Angeles. Then there's Clyde. He and Craig were inseparable best friends, now Clyde is married with a family. They haven't talked once in the two weeks Tweek's been home. Of course he'd want to try and force a relationship to work. He's been drowning in loneliness.

And Tweek was the first to abandon him.

"I'm sorry," Tweek says. He doesn't think Craig understands just how deeply he means that.

"It's not your fault. It's mine. I mean, I tried. I really did," he continues as if desperate to be believed. "I never yelled, not even when he would. I'd just- do everything, everything, I could to make it better. It wasn't enough. I couldn't make him happy."

"How'd it end?" Tweek asks.

"He found somebody else who could. Make him happy, I mean," Craig breathes as if he hadn't slept for years. "Just wish he would have had the courtesy to tell me, rather than finding out from strangers on Facebook."

A deep frown settles on Tweek's face.

He can't understand how that could happen to Craig. Tweek was with him for six years before he left. He fucked up a lot and hurt Craig from time to time, but never on purpose. Craig was such a pure fucking angel it was ridiculous; at least when it came to their relationship.

He was the kind of asshole who packed treats in baggies just to leave gay love notes on them. He'd sneak out of his parents house just to walk Tweek to the pond when things got bad, and he loved making handmade trinkets and love letters for no other reason than, "I don't want you to forget I love you."

Up to the very end, everything he did was for Tweek. He can only imagine what kind of husband he was, and what must have been going through that Thomas guy's head when he decided to throw something like that away.

Then again, Tweek may not have cheated, but he still abandoned him just the same.

"Do you ever miss him?" Tweek asks, and, for a moment, they sit in silence.


	12. Baby Steps It Is

Craig looks up at Tweek from his spot on the floor. He's still cross-legged and dripping with pond water. The only sound in his beautiful house is the swoosh of the lone ceiling fan above them.

Tweek shifts uncomfortably at Craig's silence. His soaked briefs imprint his ass cheeks in Craig's suede couch cushions. Specks of blood flake the blue carpet where he'd pressed his wound against it. He hasn't been in this house for ten minutes and he's already sullied it.

Finally, Craig's broad shoulders jerk into a shrug.

"I don't know. Maybe on hard days," he replies, "We did have good times together. I wouldn't have married him if we hadn't."

That much Tweek can understand.

There was a time he and Molly were inseparable. He still remembers how sharp her perfume smelled against the musk in his dorm room. Her voice was gorgeous when she sang, and she sang to him often. When Avery was an infant, he'd awake to the sound of her voice chiming a tune. After a look around, he'd realize he was alone. She became a phantom that tormented him.

She's dead to him now, but he still feels for her. It's the same fucked way he feels for his father, who once taught him how to fear the world with the barrel of his pistol. He aimed it between Tweek's eyes and pulled the trigger. No bullet fired. It wasn't loaded, but he swore he felt the skull-splitting impact.

The pain Molly inflicted was the same. It didn't leave a visible scar, as his father's imaginary bullet hadn't, but he still felt the pain.

He can only imagine how Craig must feel alone in this house after what his ex-husband did to him. Does Thomas's phantom echo in the halls of Craig's house they way Molly's did in Tweek's head?

"Do you ever miss her?" Craig ponders, as if he saw Tweek's daydreams play behind his eyes.

"Sometimes," he admits. If he wants Craig to be open with him, he must return the favor. "It was hard at first, when Avery was a baby. Especially since he was sick, and I was taking care of him alone. It's hard to forgive her for what she did, but I understand why she left us. She's not a bad person. Just a scared one."

Not that Tweek has room to talk. If somebody cracked him open there'd be limp spaghetti where is spine should be.

"Do you ever worry she might get ahold of you again?" Craig asks.

"You ask a lot of questions for somebody who doesn't answer mine. I still wouldn't know about Thomas if I didn't find that picture," Tweek snips. It sounds terribly venomous, though he hadn't intended it to.

"Boy, you need to simmer down," Craig warns, but Tweek doesn't know whether he's afraid or turned on by the gravel in Craig's voice. Both. It's both. "All those times we talked on the phone you didn't tell me about Avery, so we're even. You're just mad because now you know how it feels when everybody keeps secret from you."

Tweek's narrow eyes squint into thin slits.

"Well, fuck," Tweek groans. "If you were that pissed about Avery being a secret you could have told me already."

"I was hurt, but not pissed. Where do you get off being a dick about Thomas, anyway? You're the one who unfriended me on Facebook and set your page to private. You didn't know anything about my life because for the last six years you didn't want to."

"Okay, geeze, harsh," Tweek blurts, because Craig is right, and he can't argue.

"I might be wrapped around your finger, but I'll tell you when you're being an asshole," Craig says, and Tweek's heart thumps. Wrapped around his finger, huh? "You didn't tell me about Avery, and I didn't tell you about Thomas."

"Well, since you gave me shit for keeping Avery from you all those years," Tweek says. "Why'd you keep Thomas from me?"

Craig's brows knit together.

"We only talked when you called, and you only called because something bad happened and you missed me. You would never tell me that, but I knew."

Tweek frowns. Apparently, he's not as good of an actor as he thought.

"I was afraid of you knew I was married you'd think you couldn't call if you had to," Craig confesses. "Besides, I'm sure telling you about Thomas wouldn't have made things any easier on you."

"You shouldn't have worried. I was a shit ex-fiancé that broke up with you via Facebook message six years ago. Keeping a door open for me isn't fair to who you're married to. It's not really fair for you, either."

"I know," Craig says, "but I still cared about you. Maybe I wasn't supposed to. Maybe I'm selfish sometimes, too, but I missed you. I can't always be perfect."

Craig mutters that last sentence as if perfect is what he's expected to be, and anything less would make him defective or unwanted. He never acted that way before. It must be a side effect of his ex-husband's affair.

Tweek's heart jerks in his chest.

What's Craig even alluding to? What was he hoping Tweek would say every time he picked up the phone? Surely, he wasn't waiting for Tweek to admit he missed him, or he still loved him.

Craig was married. He couldn't hurt anyone that way.

Maybe he could. Maybe he wanted to. Maybe, in some small way, he felt unfaithful, too.

Tweek's wordlessness gets to Craig. He stands from the floor and towers over Tweek, who's still sinking into his sectional.

"Don't get me wrong," he mutters. "I did love him. I really did."

"I believe you," Tweek says.

Craig flashes a cockeyed smile and scratches behind his ear. "Sorry this had to come up on our first date. I should have already told you. Hopefully I didn't ruin anything."

"No, no. You suck dick too good," Tweek mumbles like a Neanderthal who just discovered language. It makes Craig laugh, though, so he doesn't care.

"If you say so," there's a blush on Craig's face, and Tweek lives for it. Its adorable how easily he can melt into Tweek's hands even after a little spat. Craig really is wrapped around his finger.

"So, like. You're covered in dirt and all your clothes are scattered in the woods. You wanna shower? I'll go scavenging for your stuff while you're in there."

"Yeah, that sounds great, actually."

When Tweek stands from the sectional the pain in his foot returns. He hisses through his teeth at the throbbing sensation, then lands back against the couch with a creak and a wet slap.

"Maybe it's best if you take a bath instead- stick your foot out of the tub."

"Whatever. Just show me where I can get clean."

Craig helps him from the couch, and they hobble through the living room and into a long hall. It's just as esthetically pleasing as the rest of Craig's abode. Polished, oak doors line either side of them, and there's a beautiful little side table situated at the end of the hall.

A small vase of flowers sits atop it's mahogany sheen, as well as a few framed pictures of the Tucker family and a model car.

They take a sharp turn to the left of table, and Craig pushes open the last wooden door with a creak. A bathroom is revealed. The walls are a bluish grey wood panel, and the floor is a complementary off-white. There's a cute double sink with a long mirror fastened above it, the cabinets of which are also white. Towels hang neatly on bars below said sink, more model cars are displayed on the toilet tank, and, of course, in Craig's bathroom the walls are decorated in tiny paintings of other bathrooms.

Its ridiculous, yet endearing, how predictable Craig's taste in home décor is.

"I'm gonna, um, leave you to it," he says as he gestures to the bathtub beside him. "I'll go gather up your clothes."

"Thank you," Tweek replies, but when Craig turns to leave his heart wants to follow. "W-wait, just a second."

The floor creaks softly under Craig's bare feet as he turns back. A look of confusion crosses his sharp features for a moment, but it softens when their eyes lock.

"I'm sorry. That I was a dick about your ex. I didn't mean to, it just kinda came out."

Craig's shoulders raise into a shrug, but he's smiling.

"It's alright, honey," he promises.

Tweek's eyes fall half-lidded, and his heart swells with such heaviness it sinks out of his chest and into his stomach. With that one word, honey, Tweek is rendered wordless. He remembers, now, why he fell so hard for Craig to begin with.

When his father said he was useless, craig said he could do anything. When his mother greeted him with only an awkward smile, Craig said hello with a bone-crushing hug and warm laughter. Where the people in his life that were supposed to take care of him failed, Craig happily showed him what it meant to be loved. If not for Craig, he may have never known.

And now here they stand merely feet away from one another, but those few feet feel like hundreds of miles when Craig forces a smile. Despite how successful he's been in life, Tweek can see his sadness. It's not fair.

"I'll be in the living room," Craig says, and his nearly-naked form inches out of the bathroom. The door clicks softly behind him, and Tweek sinks onto the pretty tile. His soggy briefs squish beneath him, but he's too rattled to care.

He spends some time becoming acquainted with his-ex boyfriend's bathroom floor. His heart is simply too swollen to carry. With that small, simple word, Craig's thrown Tweek's planets out of alignment.

He fingers the edge of the tub and manages to lift himself into it. He figures out the faucet, and then peels out of the only piece of clothing he has on. His soaked briefs slap against the white tiled floor, and cold water rushes across his toes like the waves in the pond.

He hangs his wounded foot over the edge when the water gets warm enough to soak in, then reaches up towards a porcelain shelf over the tub to borrow Craig's body wash. The lathered foam it becomes smells so much like Craig its overwhelming. It conjures up daydreams of Craig's head between his legs at the pier, and the gorgeous way his body glistened in the light of the moon.

Romance and sex were just a couple of the many things he forfeited when he became a father. Even when someone was interested in him, he didn't have the drive or desire. Now, there's Craig. He knew when he came home something would have to happen between them, whether good or bad. There was too much history, too many things left unsaid, for it not to.

Tonight, however, is something he'd never expected.

He's afraid, terrified, actually, of all the things he could do wrong. Maybe this time he'll make up for all Craig's advice he shrugged off as a kid. He can't give him what Thomas took away right now, but there is a cure for loneliness.

The only way to tame his fear of the water is to jump in.

A glob of lathered body wash rests in his palm, and it squishes as he touches himself. He puts his memory of Craig at the dock to use as he pumps his fist. His body quakes and his lips part. Quiet sounds of unquenchable need bubble from his throat. Even masturbating feels entirely new. He's rediscovering himself, and its exhilarating.

He climbs out of the tub after he's rubbed one out, but he's still unsatisfied.

A white robe hangs on the back of the polished oak door. It's long and thick, but soft to the touch. Tweek abandons the idea of a towel in favor of his discovery. He slides into it, which is, of course, much too big for him. It's made to accommodate a giant, so the bottom drags the floor as he tightens it's lace around his waist.

The white fiber is warm and plush against Tweek's steaming skin, and it smells like Craig's aftershave. He bunches up the too-long sleeves around his hands to draw in a long whiff of Craig's musk, and then sighs.

The first step out of the bathroom is like a step onto the pier. The muffled sound of the television that sweeps from the living room is the gentle rocking of the waves. Tweek follows it, and the thick robe sticks to his wet body.

He peers around the corner at the end of the hall to find Craig reclined in the sectional. Nothing but a worn pair of pajama pants cling to his waist. He's absorbed in the lights that flash from his television until something more enticing catches his gaze. Tweek has stepped out, and he's swimming in Craig's puffy housecoat. The sight brings a grin to his lips.

"You found my robe. Cute," he comments, and Tweek smiles, too.

"Did you find my clothes?"

"Yup. They're in the washer."

"Can I sit on your lap?" Tweek asks. It's a question he never thought he'd ask, but, then again, this is a situation he never thought he'd be in. Craig blinks in surprise.

"Of course, you can."

Craig's dumb grin widens when Tweek lifts a knee to crawl into his hips. His bare ass presses against Craig through his pajama bottoms. Tweek hums a small, pleased tune.

"Do you remember the first time we had sex?" Tweek asks, which causes Craig to sputter with laughter.

"Is that what you're getting at? You wanna fuck me?" Craig asks as if the harsh language will make Tweek recoil. It doesn't, though.

Tweek looks him in the eyes and says, "Yes. That's what I'm getting at. I want to fuck you."

"Oh," Craig blurts, and the tables turn as he gnaws his bottom lip.

"God, I hope that's okay?" Tweek panics. Craig's reaction wasn't what he expected. "We don't have to- Jesus, why did I say that?"

"It's okay," Craig assures with a cockeyed grin. "I um… I want to, too."

Craig's dumb smile spreads again before he tips his head down to conceal the redness in his cheeks.

Tweek leans forward to kiss the top of Craig's wet head, and then sucks in a steadying breath. No matter how hot his body burns to feel Craig, he still can't believe this is happening.

Tweek's fingers dig into the knot keeping the robe together. It loosens, then the lush fabric falls to his sides. Craig reaches for Tweek's uncovered skin like he's starved for it.

His greedy fingertips brush the bare flesh of Tweek's thigh, and then slide up beneath the open robe to grip at his ass. Tweek lets out a chime of disapproval, then grabs Craig's wrists. He pushes them away, which deprives Craig of his soft skin.

"You can't help yourself, can you? Where's your tough guy talk, now?" Tweek hums. Craig swallows at his words, and his face reddens with desire. Slowly, he shakes his head.

Tweek forgot how submissive Craig could be. His cock swells at the sight of the giant quivering beneath him. He tugs the fluffy white lace out of the robe and pulls it taunt between his fingers.

"I guess I'll have to restrain you, hm?"

Without a second thought, Craig presents Tweek with his wrists and nods his head. He's so consumed by desire he can't bring himself to speak. So Tweek leaves him there, huffing with his wrists out.

"Yes or no, say it," Tweek says, and Craig growls.

"Yes."

Tweek loops the lace around Craig's wrists. It's tight, but not too tight, and then he places the bound hands between the back of Craig's neck and the couch.

"No touching unless I say so. Your hands stay here," Tweek orders, and Craig agrees with the quickening of his breath.

Tweek's hands run down Craig's chest, which is still bare from their earlier sexual encounter. Tweek's feigned confidence can only get him so far, though, and it dissolves when he traces the dark trail of hair under Craig's navel to the hem of his pants.

The fabric lifts with Craig's hardening erection. Now that Tweek is here, a mere piece of cloth between him and a penis, he realizes he hasn't done this since they were kids.

Well, that's not gonna stop him. He still wants to take this plunge.

He hooks his fingers into the elastic on Craig's pajama pants, and Craig instantly lifts his hips to be deprived of the cloth. Tweek yanks the fabric down to his hips, and there it lay.

Craig's budding phallus lays on his midriff, which quakes from his hastened breath. Tweek's palms slide up to the peaks of his hipbones and squeeze, which earns him a shiver, before he leans down to taste it. Air hisses through Craig's teeth as he tips his head back, and the tip of Tweek's timid tongue rubs from the base to the hardened tip.

It flexes and writhes to be touched, but once it's fully thickened Tweek's tongue leaves it abandoned. Tweek can be a cruel lover, but Craig always said that's what he liked.

Tweek situates himself above Craig. He spreads his legs to either side of Craig's hips and hawks a wad of spit onto his fingers. Craig's nails scrape against the back of the couch to restrain himself. His eyes flash with the need to touch and feel. Tweek grins as his dripping fingers find a home between his spread legs.

They rub and tease places Tweek hasn't touched in years, but it feels nice. Craig's throbbing cock brushes his thighs as he works himself open. The experience of it all is almost too much to bear. His spine shivers as the tip of his finger slides in. His breath catches in his throat, and a pathetic sound squeaks out of him. It's all too obvious this is a sensation he's no longer used to.

Another finger invades him, anyway, and his cheeks pinken. His lips fall open, and his glistening tongue pants with each pump of his hand.

"Jesus Christ," Craig groans. He plants his feet firm against the carpet, and then lifts his hips. His neglected cock nudges and prods as he jerks up between Tweek's legs.

Tweek sits on Craig's hips to hold him in place. The tension of Craig's cock pressed flush against his ass sends shivers of anticipation wading through his skin. Tweek's weight pins him against the couch, but Craig's hips still pump.

"Please," he begs, and Tweek's body catches fire.

"Lube," Tweek demands, and Craig gestures his head to the stand beside the couch.

"You keep that in the living room?"

"I live alone, dude."

Tweek leans to extract a small, clear bottle from the drawer of the side table. He lathers it between his fingers, and Craig lets out a startled yelp when Tweek fists his cock with the cold liquid on his hands.

His head falls back against his tied wrists, and he huffs with keenness.

"Do you want it?" Tweek mules as he plays with the hot flesh between his fingers. Craig's head jerks with a nod.

Tweek rubs the tip against his tender heat. With slow adjusting, the tip of Craig's cock is forced inside him. Tweek lets out a cry of discomfort. The ring of muscle gripping Craig's penis stings and burns from the girth of it. A shaky whimper spills from Tweek, but he doesn't jerk away. The pain feels good, so he sways his hips to experiment with the stinging pressure.

Pleasured groans leak from Craig's lips. Gently, his hips rock up and into Tweek. With each roll of his hips he sinks deeper inside, and his eyes roll with each small jerk.

Tweek's face is beat red. His eyebrows pinch and his mouth hangs open. No one's been inside him since last let Craig. He'd forgotten just how strange it feels to be penetrated.

His body tries to recoil from the abrasive intrusion, but he won't let it. He stills and sucks in thick breaths to keep himself open for Craig. He relaxes when it sinks deeper into his body, then squeezes tight when it pulls back.

His arms are thrown around his lover and buries his face in his shoulder to brace himself. Then, he forces his writhing body down. Craig's muscles tense and he sucks in a long breath through his teeth, and Tweek cries out when he engulfs Craig fully.

Their hot breath puffs against one another's faces. They don't move, not for a while, as their bodies reunite as their hearts have.

"How does it feel?"

Craig huffs the question, low and gravely, into the shell of Tweek's ear. A wave of sensation washes over Tweek's body. How does it feel? It feels like it did when they were kids, and they hid naked under the bridge. This wonderful, exhilarating connection is familiar yet brand new all at once.

"It feels good," he settles on saying, which triggers Craig to dig his nails into the back of the couch and slam into his ass.

A loud, wet moan tears from Tweek's throat, and the room fills with filthy sounds. The slap of sweating skin and animalistic cries reverberate through the pretty white walls. Craig can't take the no touching rule anymore. He throws his bound arms around Tweek and forces him onto his back.

In the short struggle his cock slides loose from Tweek, who's now gaping open. Craig's hands are stuck beneath their tangled mass of twitching limbs, but his hips still rock despite it. With Tweek's hands guiding his cock, he plunges back inside.

Time is lost to them as the sectional bangs against the wall and groans under Craig's frantic thrusting. They ride it out, moaning and entangled, until they're sullied in each other's spit, sweat, and sticky cum.

**…**

Tweek's eyes crack open, and he stretches his limbs with a groan. His palms run across the soft fabric beneath him in search of Avery. However, there's no little boy beside him. He jerks up onto his elbow and his eyes scan the dark room he's in. Thin bands of white light seep in from a set of unfamiliar blinds. His mind is too fogged by sleep to notice much else besides the absence of his son.

"Avery?" he mutters.

His heart jerks against his ribs when he realizes Avery's not in bed with him.

"Ave!?"

He reaches for his bedside lamp only to realize there isn't one.

"Mm, are you okay?" a voice asks, gravelly with sleep. Tweek jolts around to find a man beside him.

A pair of blue eyes are squinted against the light from the yard lamp out the window. It's Craig. He rubs crust from the edges of his eyes with a groan.

"Oh, God," Tweek gasps in relief. "We fell asleep. What time is it?"

Craig groans in protest of Tweek's questions but reaches over the side of the couch anyway. He pulls A bulky plastic rectangle towards them. It's sporting wooden decals and lime green numbers glow on it's face, which nearly blind Tweek.

4am.

"Oh, shit. I gotta get home before Avery gets up."

"It's only four," Craig protests. The sleepy grog in his voice seeps into Tweek like a lullaby from his childhood. "Stay a little longer."

"I'm sorry. I really need to get home."

"Okay," Craig says without argument. The warmth of his hands against Tweek's skin reminds him he's still naked. The pop of Craig's joints and the echo of Tweek's yawns dance around the room as they get up to dress themselves.

"Do you want me to walk you to your car? It's dark, still," Craig offers as he zips his jeans. Tweek's situating Clyde's flannel, fresh from the dryer, on his shoulders when he nods.

So, they do what they do best, and walk alongside one another in the dark. Perhaps it's the sleep that still tugs at their eyelids, but they don't speak as they stumble along the trail to the bridge. The moon still dangles above them as wooden planks squeak below their sneakers.

"Pfft, hey," Craig mumbles as he jabs Tweek with his elbow. "Look."

Tweek stops to follow Craig's pointed finger. It presses against the wooden railing of the bridge. The plank has been chipped away to form a crude heart. At it's center is a familiar pair of initials. Their teenage selves left those scribbled symbols all over town like breadcrumbs to be followed if they ever lost their way. Tweek touches its crude edges with a mix of emotions on his face.

"Can I ask you something?"

Tweek blinks, and then turns to his…  _ex_ -boyfriend? That word doesn't fit anymore.

Craig's eyes burn into him with uncertainty, like he doesn't want to say what he's about to. "It seems like we took a leap instead of baby steps tonight. What… is this? Between you and I?"

"Oh," Tweek says, his cheeks tinging. It's obvious he's uncertain himself. "I- um, well- what do you want it to be?"

"I…" Craig stumbles like a school boy who was called on without a hand raised. "I know anything too serious isn't going to work for you. Not with Avery."

"Yeah, I'd rather him not catch wind of this," Tweek admits, and Craig's face falls.

"I mean- fuck," Tweek grumbles. He yanks on his hair, a nervous habit that rears its head in times of stress.

"You know how I feel about you, you have to. I've had so much fun tonight and- I want to keep doing… whatever this is," he gestures between them. "I just don't want anyone else involved in his life. Not right now, not like that. And anyone who's seriously involved in me would have to be in Avery, too."

"So, we're friends with benefits, then?" Craig ponders. "On the down low?"

"Best friends with benefits," Tweek corrects, which earns him a smile from Craig. "I care about you. Just because I'm not ready for a relationship doesn't mean nobody can know we do this. Cartman caught you sucking my dick, anyway. I'm sure all of south park already knows."

Craig's smile spills over into laughter.

"It doesn't have to be a secret that we're sleeping together," Tweek reiterates. "Just as long as Avery's left out of it."

"Yeah, yeah, I understand. I'll, um, keep my distance if you want me to," Craig mutters as if he must forfeit any connection to Avery to keep things convenient for Tweek.

Avery is so enamored by Craig he screeches like an engine every time he sees him. It'd be cruel to keep them apart. Besides, out of all the people in the world, Craig is who Tweek hopes Avery grows up to be like.

Not that he'd admit that out loud.

"He likes you a lot. It's okay for you to play with him and spend time with him or whatever. We might have taken the big plunge when it comes to sex, but when it comes to a serious relationship… let's go back to baby steps."

Craig seems more than satisfied with that arrangement. He smiles wide and nods. It seems if he has Tweek and Avery in his life he doesn't care that about the technicalities of it.

"Baby steps it is."


End file.
